


The Dangers Of A Curious Mind

by zerodawn22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hermione / Ron friendship;, Hermione is a gay mess, Triwizard Tournament, Useless Lesbians, angsty Harry, fleurmione - Freeform, not the same old tournament, viktor / fleur friendship;
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 81,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerodawn22/pseuds/zerodawn22
Summary: Hermione, curious about magical creatures, sets out to research Veela. Fortunately for her, there is a part-Veela at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. As things progress, Hermione quickly finds herself in over her head. Eventual Fleurmione. Rating will go up in later chapters.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 57
Kudos: 431





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione had always been curious of Magical Creatures. This fascination had only grown as she entered her Fourth Year at Hogwarts.

She had studied up on House Elves, learning their truly appalling conditions. She'd even set up S.P.E.W. in order to assist. Though much to her chagrin, it didn't seem like anyone appreciated it- Elf or human.

Now Hermione had a new target for her creature research.

Ron had speculated countless times that the Champion of Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour, was a Veela. There seemed to be some merit to Ron's theory. She certainly made heads turn when she entered a room. Her platinum blonde hair also had a curiously silvery quality to it, similar to the Veela Hermione had seen at the Quidditch World Cup earlier in the year.

They were a couple of weeks into the school year, the horrors of the Quidditch World Cup seeming some time ago now, and yet the memory of the Bulgarian Quidditch team's mascots burned in Hermione's mind. Hermione, who had long been horrified by Muggle sports teams that mistreated animals that matched their sports teams mascots, had been equally horrified by the use of the elegant Veela as mascots.

They looked so charming, so alluring, so regal… It cheapened them to reduce them to sexualised mascots. Though, Hermione would be lying if she said she hadn't also felt her eyes glued to the beautiful humanoid creatures...

She'd been relieved that the males around her were far too concerned with controlling their own reactions to the powerful thrall of the creatures to notice her more-than-friendly appreciation of the stunning women.

It brought a blush to Hermione's cheeks to think about her reaction for too long. _As if she needed another reason to be shunned by the girls in the dormitories._

No, she would focus on more academic pursuits. Questions of her attractions and sexuality were such trivial matters. They could wait to be considered another day.

_A day hopefully several years from now, when Hermione was less startled by it all, that is._

Her own reaction to Veela aside, Hermione had caught a curiosity for the creatures. So they became her latest research project. They had proved a topic most elusive in the library, further stoking Hermione's eagerness to learn more.

She had even brought it up at one of the trio's visits to Hagrid's Hut, deftly hiding one of Hagrid's rock cakes in her pocket while asking if he knew of any resources on the creatures. Hagrid's baking was truly atrocious. But he was so lovely and so earnest, Hermione just had to hide his offerings in her pocket or handbag when they visited so his feelings wouldn't be hurt. As far as the overly large man knew, the trio _loved_ his baking. Hagrid's eyes crinkled as he smiled widely, noting how fast the trio were devouring the baking. Hermione smiled politely, hoping Hagrid wouldn't notice Ron had crudely hidden two rock cakes in a pot plant beside the door.

It was near the end of their visit when Hermione asked Hagrid about Veela.

"Veela, eh?" Hagrid rumbled in his bassy voice. He scratched his beard thoughtfully, "They're qui'e the reclusive lot. They bin keepin' themselves to themselves fer as long as they've been 'round!"

"There must be _some_ books on them, though," Hermione commented, "After all, wizarding folk seem to have had plenty of encounters with them."

"I wouldn't mind having an _encounter_ with Fleur Delacour," Ron chimed in, his eyes momentarily glazing over, "Maybe I could help you with your research by asking her…"

Hermione snorted.

"She's so full of herself I doubt she would give you the time of day," Hermione shot back.

It was true. Fleur Delacour, despite only having been on the Hogwarts grounds for just over a week, had already racked up quite the reputation. Although half the population seemed to fawn over her, Fleur had already become known as a total Ice Queen. She frequently froze out her peers, was rude to others, and complained constantly.

Hermione had taken an instant dislike to her when she had noticed her laughing amongst her friends during Dumbledore's speech. She reminded Hermione awfully of the girls at her Muggle school who used to bully her.

"Harry, speakin' o' the other Champions," Hagrid interrupted before Ron could bicker with Hermione, "I wanted ta talk ta ye about the Tournament."

"I didn't put my name in," Harry replied flatly. It had become his default response whenever the Tournament came up, given that's all anyone seemed interested in.

Ron's brows knitted together. Hermione could tell he didn't quite believe Harry, something that was quickly forming a wedge between the two friends.

Hagrid looked thoughtful, perhaps weighing up whether or not that was true. After a long pause, he nodded.

"Tha's good enough fer me," Hagrid said solemnly, "But yer goin' ta need ta be careful. I'm sure ye know people have died in this Tournament in the past. It isn' anythin' ta take lightly."

Harry nodded, paling.

There was a tense silence over the trio as they trudged back to the castle after that conversation. Ron seemed to be silently broiling, his brows still knitted firmly together and his jaw set. Harry, on the other hand, seemed even more confused and alarmed. Hagrid was hardly known to be gung-ho on safety, after all. A warning from him carried a lot of weight.

They had just stepped into the Entrance Hall as a small cluster of Beauxbatons students were gliding towards the exit. They came to a stop as the trio sloped in the doors. The girls looked thoroughly put out at having to wait. Hermione had to withhold an eye roll.

Most of the girls from Beauxbatons looked like they had stepped right off a runway. They wore their silk summer uniforms no matter what the weather, short skirts and high heels included. Hermione felt like pointing out to them that they couldn't win extra points from the judges at the Tournament just from looking good.

Fleur Delacour stepped forward, eying the trio with dissatisfaction. Her eyes were a sky blue that was so blue, it almost seemed unnatural. Hermione wondered idly if she had vainly charmed her irises to be more blue. Fleur's proud gaze fell on Harry and she smiled, though it seemed more like a sneer.

"'Arry Potter," Fleur greeted imperiously, "'Ow are you coping wiz ze pressure? We will 'ave ze first media encounter next week at ze weighing of ze wands."

Her voice was silky and delicate, unlike what Hermione had expected. Her French accent was also far thicker than Hermione had expected. She seemed newer to English than Hermione had expected. After all, she had heard through the grapevine that Fleur was something of a gifted student herself.

"Don't remind me," Harry groaned, "I'm really not looking forward to it."

"If you did not want to participate, you should not 'ave put your name in ze Goblet," Fleur said airily, flipping her mane of blonde hair over one of her shoulders. The girls on either side of her tittered, causing Harry to blush with annoyance.

"I didn't put it in there," Harry growled.

Fleur muttered something in French, causing the girls around her to titter again. She flashed Harry a sly smile before strutting around him and gliding out of the Entrance Hall, her cronies in tow.

"Bloody hell," Harry groaned, kicking at the stone floor, frustrated.

"I don't usually say this about other girls," Hermione said, "But Merlin, she is a _bitch._ "

This seemed to cheer Harry up a bit. Ron, however, was looking forlornly out the door, watching Fleur leave.

"Blimey," Ron sighed, before turning back to the other two, "You can't really blame her for calling you out on the name in the Goblet. She's just saying what we're all thinking."

"What we're _all_ thinking?" Harry echoed, balling his hands into fists.

_Oh, Merlin._

Hermione had seen a couple of tiffs between the boys in the past, but this looked like it was going to be a real corker.

"Oh come on, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, his voice raising, "Who do you think you're fooling?!"

"I'm not _trying_ to fool anyone!" Harry bellowed back.

Their voices were echoing around the cavernous Entrance Hall. Hermione suddenly found herself wishing that the lesson on Silencing Charms that Professor Flitwick had scheduled for the following week had been held before now. She sorely wished she could stop the two boys from making a scene. Some Slytherins had entered the Entrance Hall and were standing on the fringes, sniggering amongst themselves as they watched.

"Come off it!" Ron shouted, "I thought you were my best mate! But instead you go behind my back and find out a way to put your own name in the goblet—not even letting me in on it!"

"You're mental!" Harry roared, "Why the hell would I do that?! The Tournament is bloody dangerous!"

"Probably just to get more attention!" Ron replied, purpling, "For once the focus was going to be on a Tournament instead of the Boy Who Lived and you couldn't _stand_ it, could you mate?!"

Harry flushed with anger, almost shaking with fury. Ron had crossed a line now. Hermione knew how much Harry loathed the attention. Ron did too, deep down, when he wasn't blinded by his own jealousy.

"Fuck you!" Harry shouted.

"Whatever," Ron hissed, turning on his heel and stalking out of the Entrance Hall and back outside.

Hermione sighed heavily, turning to Harry.

"Hopefully a walk outside will cool him off," Hermione said to Harry. Harry scowled.

"I wouldn't bloody bet on it," Harry growled, taking off towards the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione followed the furious raven-haired boy, sighing. This was set to be a _long_ year.

* * *

A week later, it was Hermione's birthday. Unfortunately for her, the rift between the two boys had only widened further. It seemed like she would spend her fifteenth birthday bouncing between her two best friends.

She was having breakfast with Harry this morning, planning to have lunch with Ron later in the day. Harry was pointedly ignoring the redheaded boy who was sitting further down the Gryffindor table, discussing Quidditch with Dean and Seamus.

Harry plastered a big grin on his face, producing a package wrapped in scarlet and gold wrapping paper.

"Happy birthday, 'Mione," Harry said, handing it to her.

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione smiled, unwrapping it eagerly. Her face lit up as she saw a set of books by Charles Dickens.

"Thought you might have missed the Muggle world a bit," Harry said with a boyish smile, "Did you ever have to study one of these in English class?"

"No, but I love Dickens," Hermione replied, smiling widely, "Thanks, Harry!"

The morning owls burst into the Great Hall, dropping a few letters and packages from her family. She had received several textbooks from her parents, which delighted her. She had secretly wanted to keep up with some of the Muggle studies that she had forgone when accepting her offer to Hogwarts over a Muggle school.

"Only you would be excited to get textbooks as a gift," Harry chuckled, looking at the gift from Hermione's parents, "D'you think all your presents will be books?"

"I wouldn't be upset if they were," Hermione replied honestly, tearing into a gift from Hagrid. It was crudely wrapped in brown paper and she was relieved that it didn't seem to be a package of baking.

Sure enough, it was another book. The cover was glossy, a deep forest green leather-bound hardcover book. It looked new and expensive. Hermione was floored by Hagrid's generosity. She looked at the small note tucked inside the front cover.

_"Happee Birthdae Hermione,_

_I looked in to one of my contacts in my Magical Creatures cirkles. They helped me source this for you. Hope this helps you with that curiosity of yours! I am so pleased that one of you three has ended up been as interested in Magical Creatures as I am._

_Best,_

_Hagrid."_

Hermione looked at the cover again. In light gold cursive on the cover was the title: _Siren Song: Veela and Their Habits._

Hermione was absolutely thrilled, looking forward to reading about the creatures already. She had to restrain herself from delving into the book already, putting it aside with her other gifts and letters.

Her mind was already whirring though; did the title mean that Veela were descended from Sirens? It would certainly make sense.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Sorry Harry," Hermione apologised, "What were you saying?"

"I was saying that I know we were going to hang in the Common Room tonight for your birthday, but I'll be a bit late because of the weighing wands thing for the Tournament," Harry explained.

"Oh, right," Hermione replied. Harry's time was being taken up more and more with the Tournament. It was a shame, but at least she still got to see him on her birthday.

"Sorry," Harry apologised.

"It isn't your fault," Hermione assured.

Despite Harry being tangled up with Tournament duties again, Hermione's birthday went very well. She had all her favourite classes; Transfiguration, Charms, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. Ron was in surprisingly good spirits when she sat with him at lunchtime. He didn't even raise his feud with Harry once. He and Ginny had got Hermione some nice gifts, too. Hermione rather suspected from the nice bracelet she received that Ginny had taken charge on the gift selection, but she appreciated Ron all the same.

After dinner, Hermione played Exploding Snap and Wizarding Chess in the Common Room with Ron, Ginny and Neville.

Hermione couldn't help but feel a little exasperated when Ron pointedly got up and left in the middle of a game of Exploding Snap when Harry entered the Common Room. It had _just_ about been a birthday free of their drama. Ginny shot her a sympathetic smile.

"He'll get over it," Ginny assured.

"Yeah, but how long will it take?" Hermione retorted. She changed the subject quickly as Harry sat down, observing the game.

"How was the wand weighing thing?" Ginny asked, flipping a card down on the table.

Harry sighed.

"Terrible," he groaned, "Everyone acted like I shouldn't be there. Except for this dreadful reporter, Rita Skeeter. She wouldn't get out of my face. Fleur called me a 'little boy' again… Oh, and turns out Ron was right, at least partly—She said her wand has a Veela hair in it from her grandmother. So I guess that makes her a quarter Veela."

"Really!" Hermione exclaimed. Interesting.

"Doesn't make her less of a bitch," Ginny commented under her breath. Hermione couldn't help but smirk. She had to agree.

Harry seemed reluctant to talk anymore about the Tournament, though. Instead he fished around in his bag, producing a (slightly squashed) cardboard box full of cupcakes.

"I tried to get a candle or something," Harry said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, Harry! It's perfect!" Hermione exclaimed, "I wasn't expecting anything like a cake."

"Well, they're cupcakes," Harry said, "Hardly cakes."

"Still! They're great!" Ginny said, blushing a little as she complimented Harry, "Plus, with Ron sulking, we'll actually get to eat a decent amount!"

Hermione smiled. At least there was a slight upside to her friends being in an argument.

Later that night, she finally slipped into the cover of her four-poster bed in the Gryffindor dormitory. She drew the curtains around the bed, revelling in one of the few moments of privacy she got while at school. She settled her pillows behind her back, getting comfortable before pulling out the book Hagrid had got her.

She frowned as she heard Lavender gossiping loudly to Parvati. It was _clearly_ bedtime. They should just go down to the Common Room if they felt like talking.

Thankfully, she'd finally had the lesson on Silencing Charms that she'd been looking forward to for weeks. She flicked her wand, pleased when the gossiping voices were quickly shut out.

She wriggled, getting comfortable nestled amongst her voluminous blankets and pillows. She felt the tensions of the day fade as she began to read. The book was fascinating, even in its early chapters.

Veela were descended from Sirens, it turns out. They had settled in woodland areas, and been around for a very long time. They were referred to intermittently in ancient texts as nymphs, Harpies and the like. Unlike their Siren ancestors, the Veela _loathed_ the water. They had developed into an avian species, preferring dry and warm climates.

Hermione read on, soaking up the knowledge eagerly before she finally fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione leafed through the book at the breakfast table, still deeply engrossed in learning more about Veela.

Ginny slumped down into a seat beside her.

"Merlin, you'd think Delacour had never seen a winter before," Ginny growled.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, looking up from her book. Ginny groaned.

"I forgot what you're like when you have new books," Ginny replied, "Anyway, I just got held up by Delacour loudly complaining about how cold it is. Maybe the Beauxbatons lot shouldn't have packed only summer uniforms then? Gods, its not like its going to kill her!"

Hermione, fascinated, leafed back to the page in her book about Veela's habitat. They loathed water and the cold; thriving in warm and dry climates. The textbook noted that Veela would exhibit poor tempers and increased physical proximity with peers when outside of their ideal climate.

Hermione looked up, looking across to the Ravenclaw table. Indeed, Fleur was scowling, nestled up so closely to one of her peers she was practically sitting on the girl's lap. The classmate seemed used to it, an arm slung around Fleur's shoulders absently as she ate her own breakfast.

"Curious," Hermione murmured. She wondered how fully Fleur exhibited Veela attributes as a quarter-blooded Veela. She certainly seemed affected by habitat.

"What is?" Ginny asked suspiciously, "You have that tone in your voice like you're going to rope me into another one of your projects or get me to prove one of your hypotheses. If I'm not going to do spew, I'm not going to do whatever your next hare-brained scheme is."

"They aren't hare-brained," Hermione replied irritably, her eyes still on Fleur, "And it isn't _spew,_ it's S.P.E.W."

"You should get rid of whoever came up with that name," Ron said, sitting down on Hermione's other side.

" _I_ came up with that name!" Hermione replied, thoroughly nettled.

Ron exchanged looks with Ginny across Hermione.

"For Pete's sake!" Hermione snapped, gathering up her things, "I'm going to the library until classes start."

"Oh come on!" Ginny protested, as Hermione slung her bag on her shoulder, "We didn't even do anything!"

"Leave her be," Ron advised his sister wisely, "She can be a right moody one."

Hermione scowled, storming off to the library without another word. Sometimes Ron and Ginny could be bloody annoying. Sometimes it felt like nobody understood her.

But maybe this was just normal teen angst.

Hermione sighed, setting her things down on one of her favourite tables in the library. It was usually quite deserted in the mornings before class.

Hermione pulled out her book on Veela again, before pulling out a small notebook. The notebook was one of her gifts from Ginny and Ron, along with the bracelet.

She opened up the first page, inking a quill before scrawling: _How Strongly Do Veela Habits Present Themselves in Part-Blooded Individuals?_

She underlined the title, before making a careful subtitle: _Environment._

She paused for a moment, wondering if it crossed a line to study one of her fellow students. Then she remembered how truly dreadful Fleur was, quickly pushing her guilt to one side.

_"Subject appears greatly affected by cold, damp climate—consistent with the textbook findings on full-blooded Veela. Exhibiting poor temper and close physical proximity to peers."_

Hermione smiled, pleased with her findings from breakfast, before turning back to the book from Hagrid.

She wondered what other observations she could discover. Perhaps she could even end up writing her own textbook on partial-Veela. She was sure it would be a helpful resource to aid wizarding culture in understanding them better. Maybe it would even stop them from being so overly-sexualised in wizarding media.

Hermione read on. Veela tended to prefer lighter diets, grazing on fruit, vegetables, nuts and the occasional seafood throughout the day, rather than three square meals. That would certainly explain why the Ravenclaw girls were always remarking on how little Fleur ate at mealtimes. Hermione was also sure she had overheard Fleur complaining about how heavy the food was at Hogwarts.

Hermione turned the page of the book, reading further. There were some foods that Veela couldn't help but binge themselves on, that they found irresistible. Hermione was entirely baffled by the list: honey, olives and strawberries.

She had to test this theory.

Hermione packed up her things again, figuring she had just enough time to stop past the kitchens before classes started. She could also try and get in some discussion with the House Elves about their freedom. She was grateful that Fred and George had shown her where the kitchen was _before_ S.P.E.W., because they definitely wouldn't have shown her otherwise.

As she walked there, Hermione wondered idly if the extra step of actively conducting tests on a schoolmate was too far. It certainly did go beyond standard observation.

Almost as if on cue, Hermione turned a corridor corner, coming across a slight altercation in the hallways.

Colin Creevey seemed to be the latest boy caught in Fleur's thrall. He was standing in front of Fleur and her friends, all but drooling. Hermione was too late to catch what he had said, but Fleur had a look of disgust and disdain on her face.

"Ew, non," Fleur said, fixing Colin with a look that would make even the bravest thirteen-year-old quake in his boots.

"I-I-I- Just one photograph?" Colin asked, blushing, "You're just so pretty!"

Fleur looked at Colin as if he were dirt on her shoe, flipping her hair contemptuously over one shoulder.

She didn't even deign to reply to Colin this time, simply gliding past him with a disgruntled "ugh!"

Fleur's friends followed her, giggling and conversing rapidly in French. They left the poor boy in their wake, subject to the jeers of some nearby Sixth-Year Slytherins. Colin looked as if he might cry.

Hermione suddenly made her mind up. Fleur was heartless—it was hardly wrong to run a few tests on her without her knowledge, especially when she wouldn't know any different.

* * *

Hermione convinced Dobby to provide a large bowl of olives on the Gryffindor table and to send it up by where she would be seated. She had her notebook ready at her side and was curious to see if Fleur would even notice.

Dinner had barely commenced when she noticed Ron turn bright red across the table and his eyes glaze over. Sure enough, she noticed a silky powder-blue uniform just behind her.

"Excusez-moi," a light French-accented voice lilted, "May I 'ave ze olives?"

Hermione grinned, she had arranged with Dobby to make it impossible to remove the olives from the Gryffindor table.

"Hello," Hermione greeted, turning around to lock eyes with Fleur Delacour. Her gaze was bright and intensely fixed on the bowl of olives.

_Curious._

"I'm afraid I don't think you can take the olives from the Gryffindor table," Hermione said, shrugging innocently.

"Nonsense," Fleur scoffed, "Zere are none at ze ozzer tables! Let me 'ave zem!"

"You'll see what I mean," Hermione replied airily, gesturing towards the bowl of olives, "Try and take them if you like."

Fleur pouted at Hermione before doing just that, scowling as the bowl disappeared from her hands and reappeared on the Gryffindor table immediately. She snatched it up again, only for it to fade and reappear back in its place in front of Hermione.

"Merde!" Fleur cursed, "Zis castle is _ridiculous!"_

Thoroughly amused at pissing off the snooty blonde, Hermione had to hide the giant smirk that was threatening to spread across her face. The cold blonde really was quite an amusing subject to study.

To her dismay, Fleur didn't give up. She tapped Parvati Patel, who was sitting next to Hermione, on the shoulder firmly.

" _Move down,_ s'il vous plait," Fleur demanded icily.

Parvati, who had a tendency to be fiery herself at times, took one look at the look on Fleur's face before nodding politely and shuffling down the table. Fleur, appeased, slid onto the bench seat next to Hermione and set to devouring the olives one by one.

Ron looked at her as if an alien had invaded the Gryffindor table. He seemed in shock at the blonde beauty gracing the Gryffindor table with her presence instead of the Ravenclaw table.

"Er, you don't usually sit here," Hermione commented.

She was surprised. She had thought Fleur would have given up, falling into one of her moods and loudly complaining to her friends at the Ravenclaw table. It seemed her craving for the olives was the only thing she cared about right now.

 _Veela really do find olives irresistible,_ Hermione thought to herself, discreetly making some notes in her notebook.

Fleur shivered a little in the cold. She didn't have her usual friends to cuddle up to. But, to Hermione's surprise, she didn't complain once. In fact, she almost seemed to be beaming.

"I did not know zat ze Gryffindor table had such _amazing_ food!" Fleur replied to Hermione, her tone uncharacteristically warm, "I am Fleur Delacour, by ze way."

"Hermione Granger," Hermione introduced herself.

"Ron Weasley," Ron chimed in from across the table, briefly finding his voice, "You know those are just plain olives, right?"

Fleur ignored him, happily popping another olive into her mouth.

Satisfied the blonde was preoccupied with the food, Hermione made a few more short observations in her notebook.

_Not only does the part-Veela find the olives irresistible, but it has had a noted affect on her demeanour. Mood appears to have risen; less argumentative._

Fleur ate the olives until the bowl ceased to refill itself. As soon as she was done, she flashed a smile at the Gryffindors around her, before simply getting up and gliding out of the Great Hall.

"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed, looking over at Hermione, wide-eyed, "What the hell was all that about?!"

"I guess she really likes olives?" Hermione said with a shrug.

Ron was gaping at the doors to the Great Hall, stunned.

"Who just eats plain olives one after another for a meal?" Ron said, baffled. But he soon brightened, "Did you see how she introduced herself to me? Maybe she came over here to get to know me!"

"Yeah," Hermione scoffed, "Maybe."

She was too engrossed in noting down all her observations to really pay the redhead too much attention.

Ron ran a hand smoothly through his hair.

"I am starting to grow quite an impressive moustache," Ron proudly informed Hermione. Hermione squinted across the table at him, making out the faint shadow of a fluffy ginger moustache on his upper lip.

Merlin. Hermione rolled her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note: I'm part of a Discord server where we chat Harry Potter femslash! It's talking about fave pairings, sharing great fic recommendations and helping some of the authors brainstorm/feeding them plot suggestions. You don't have to be a writer to join, just enjoy Harry Potter f/f pairings and be 18+ discord. gg/6anK88uNst (delete the spaces, I just put them in to trick ao3 lol)
> 
> -Z


	2. Chapter 2

_**Note: when characters are speaking French, the words will be in bold. If it is Hermione's thoughts or notes in her notebook, it will be in italics.** _

* * *

Hermione scribbled in her notebook, making quick observations. She was in her History of Magic class, but was already well ahead of the class despite it being so early in the school year. As such, it was the perfect place to write up her morning findings from her research.

She had read that Veela held a strong dislike for rats. Hermione, emboldened by her encouraging findings so far, had encouraged Fred and George Weasley to release a few rats in the hallways as the Beauxbatons delegation were heading to their classes after breakfast. The impish twins hadn't taken much convincing, already planning on pranking the pretty French girls anyway.

Unfortunately, the results were inconclusive. The girls around Fleur had been so frantic and hysterical, Hermione had barely been able to see if Fleur herself was reacting. She appeared disgusted and uncomfortable at the appearance of the rats, but Hermione wasn't sure if that exactly confirmed a _strong dislike_. Besides, if Hermione really thought about it—lots of humans held a strong dislike for rats anyway.

It was all a bit of a wash.

She had a new plan though. Under the likes and dislikes, the book went on to explain that Veela actually had quite a developed sense of smell, at least when it came to some scents. Hermione had already acquired a small vial of lavender scented perfume, courtesy of Neville who had over-ordered when arranging for a birthday present for his grandmother.

But Hermione knew she couldn't put the lavender perfume on just anyone, or it would be like the rat experiment. There was no point dousing Ron in lavender perfume when she wouldn't be able to tell if Fleur would be acting disgusted with him because of the lavender or because he was, well, Ron.

No… Hermione had to pick someone that Fleur usually liked being close to.

Hermione's mind immediately turned to the flock of beautiful girls that surrounded Fleur wherever she went. Given the coldness of the castle, Fleur was almost always cosied up to one or more of the girls.

The class wrapped up and Hermione looked around to see some of her classmates waking up from poorly hidden naps. Ron's hair was standing up on all angles like he had just got up from bed. Harry looked like he had a bit of drool on his lip. Hermione never understood how students couldn't keep awake in this class! Yes, Professor Binns had a bit of a monotonous way of speaking—but he was a freakin' ghost! Besides, the various wars and establishments of Magical communities was totally fascinating.

Hermione slung her bag on her shoulder, following the throng of students as they filed out of the classroom grateful and into the corridors.

Hermione's stomach was growling; she was very much ready for lunch.

Her thoughts of food were quickly interrupted as a flurry of powder-blue uniforms glided past the Gryffindors. Hermione quickly noticed it was Fleur and her friends. Now was her chance.

Hermione pushed her way through her fellow Gryffindors, making sure she was closest to the Beauxbatons girls as they approached the entrance to the Great Hall. She fished in her satchel, taking out the small vial of perfume. She produced her wand. She happened to know a spell that would help her accurately get Fleur's friends. She unstoppered the perfume, tapping the vial with her wand and muttering the necessary words. She watched, fascinated, as small droplets of the perfume flew out of the vial and through the crowds. Hermione muttered again carefully, waving her wand in the direction of the Beauxbatons girls.

She wasn't sure if the small droplets had successfully landed on their targets, but she had tried her best. She put the vial back in her satchel, calmly entering the Great Hall and making a beeline for the Gryffindor table. She wanted to get a good seat so she could observe Fleur properly.

She sat down between Harry and Ginny, not even listening to either as she set her eyes on the Ravenclaw table. She fished out her notebook and quill, ready to take diligent notes.

Fleur was already beginning to walk at a distance from her friends now, her nose scrunched and a look of disgust across her delicate features. The girls settled in at the Ravenclaw table, gesturing for Fleur to come and sit with them.

Fleur looked at them, shaking her head.

Fascinating. Hermione scrawled her notes rapidly. Fleur hadn't even sat down with them!

She wondered what was going to happen now. Would Fleur even sit at the Ravenclaw table? Or were her senses so sharp she needed to move even further away?

As she looked up from her note-taking, Hermione froze—her breath catching in her throat. Fleur was looking directly at her.

_'Does she somehow know what I'm doing?'_ Hermione thought with horror. She hadn't read anything about Veela being able to read minds, but was thoroughly unnerved.

Fleur slowly began to walk towards Hermione, gliding like she was on a runway.

"What's Delacour up to?" Ginny muttered to Hermione.

Fleur strutted right over to Hermione, looking down at the brunette. Hermione slammed her notebook shut, not wanting Fleur to see anything that she had written in there.

"Er, hello," Hermione greeted, unnerved by the intense gaze of the Beauxbatons Champion.

"'Ermione, correct?" Fleur asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Ah, yeah," Hermione answered tersely. Fleur really wasn't sure of her name after she introduced herself to the blonde just a few days ago? Merlin… This girl…

"'Arry, can you move down?" Fleur asked Harry, "I will sit wiz you and 'Ermione for lunch today."

Ron was shooting absolute daggers down the table at Harry right now. Hermione could tell it was just further igniting his jealousy of The Boy Who Lived.

"Er, okay," Harry replied, shuffling down the bench seats.

Fleur delicately climbed in, sitting herself elegantly between Harry and Hermione.

Fleur looked at the food with disdain, shivering a little.

"Is the food 'ere _always_ so 'eavy?" Fleur sighed.

Hermione watched with interest as Fleur proceeded to pick out pieces of fruit and nuts out from what was on offer at the table. It was like it was right out of the textbook on Veela.

Hermione was relaxing now, figuring that Fleur had just chosen to sit by her as she was a familiar face at a table far enough away from the lavender scent of her friends.

"Do you prefer to graze on lighter things than have hearty meals?" Hermione asked Fleur.

Fleur looked at her curiously.

"Oui," Fleur replied, before popping a cashew into her mouth, "I've never been one for zese set timings of large meals. I would razzer eat a little when I am… 'ow you say? Snacky?"

"When you're just a little peckish?" Hermione offered.

Fleur cocked her head to one side, smiling.

Hermione was suddenly struck by the full beauty of the part-Veela. The full pout of her lips, the creaminess of her skin, the silkiness of her long mane of hair, the brightness of her azure eyes…

"Ze British 'ave such cute phrases and words," Fleur said finally, " _Peckish._ Like a bird, non?"

Hermione felt her stomach flip. Merlin… Fleur Delacour could actually be… Cute!

Before Hermione could really analyse what she was feeling, Fleur had turned to Harry on her other side.

"Are you ready for ze First Task, 'Arry?" Fleur asked.

Harry paled, shaking his head a little.

"Nah… It's hard to prepare for what we don't know… Isn't it?" Harry replied, "I mean… We still don't know when it will even be."

Fleur looked around confidentially before lowering her voice.

"Madame Maxime says we will find out in ze next few days," Fleur informed Harry, "And zat once zey tell us, we will only 'ave a few days to prepare. Even when zey tell us ze date and time of ze First Task, zey are still not going to tell us what we are facing."

"That seems bloody unfair!" Harry replied, "How can we prepare for what we don't know?"

Fleur shrugged.

"It is ze nature of ze competition, non?" Fleur replied, putting another cashew into her mouth.

Hermione was surprised. She hadn't thought that Fleur was the type of competitor who would give Harry the benefit of sharing what she knew about the timing of the First Task. Perhaps Fleur wasn't _quite_ as cold as Hermione had initially thought.

Fleur shivered again. Hermione felt a little bad then, depriving Fleur of her usual friends to cuddle up to. It was the Veela's nature to increase physical proximity when in this environment.

As Hermione mulled over her guilt, Fleur shuffled closer to her, her toned thigh pressed flush against Hermione's own leg. Their shoulders were touching and Hermione could feel the blonde trembling with the cold.

Fleur seemed oblivious to any awkwardness of their close physical proximity, continuing to snack away on the food in front of her.

Hermione felt like her stomach was suddenly too unstable to manage her own lunch. It felt like it was doing acrobatics.

Why was she reacting so strongly to Fleur? Was it her thrall? Hermione knew now from her book that it only affected men, but she felt a warmth and thrill at Fleur being pressed so close to her.

_'You can't feel a Veela thrall, but you still find them attractive…'_ a sinister little voice deep within Hermione teased, _'You know what that means?'_

Hermione closed her eyes tightly. She shook her head slightly.

_'It means you find them attractive purely because they're gorgeous women…'_ the voice continued, _'Which means… You're not straight, Hermione Granger. You're a nerd. You're frizzy-haired and bucktoothed. You're Muggleborn… And now you're gay on top of that.'_

Horrified, Hermione's eyes snapped open again and she involuntarily gasped.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked from beside her.

Fleur's azure eyes were on Hermione again. It was making it all far too unbearable.

"Yeah… I-I-I… I have to go," Hermione stammered. She pushed her food away from her and grabbed her satchel. Hermione practically leapt out of her seat, speeding out of the Great Hall before Harry or Ginny could question her further.

As soon as she got out of the Hall, she leaned against the stone wall, panting.

No.

She could push this out of her mind.

She would focus on her studies. Her research. Harry and the Tournament. There was plenty going on in her life that she could think about. Anything was better to think about instead of this.

* * *

It was a couple of days later and Hermione was at lunch in the Great Hall. She was staring intently at the Ravenclaw table.

Fleur was cuddled up with another one of her friends this morning. It was a raven-haired girl who was almost as gorgeous as the part-Veela herself. The girl had an arm tightly around Fleur's shoulders. Fleur was resting her head on the pretty girl's shoulder, a slight smile on her face.

Hermione hadn't run any more experiments on Fleur since the blonde had sat so closely to her at lunch.

But as she watched Fleur nestled closely with her pretty friend, she suddenly felt her stomach twist uncomfortably. Maybe it was time for another experiment.

She pulled the Veela textbook roughly out of her satchel, wrenching it to a page almost at random.

_"Witch hazel has a strong affect on Veela…"_

Well. Hermione just so happened to know that powdered witch hazel was in her potions kit. She had bought the extended kit when filling her stationery list that year. Now it was finally paying off.

People were beginning to finish their lunch and rise to head out of the Great Hall. Hermione watched Fleur and her friends glide elegantly across the Hall, numerous eyes on them. Hermione noticed with distaste that the little finger of Fleur's hand was interlinked with the little finger of the girl she had just been cuddling with at the table.

"Want to head out?" Hermione asked Ron beside her. She fished frantically through her bag.

"Uh, sure," Ron agreed, grabbing an extra drumstick for the road.

Hermione headed off at a speedy pace. Ron, even with his lanky limbs, had to hurry to catch up with her.

"Gods, why are you in such a rush?" Ron asked, biting his drumstick.

"No reason," Hermione replied innocently.

They had caught up to the Beauxbatons girls in the crowded hallway. Hermione, discreetly, lifted her hand. In it she had a handful of witch hazel powder. She blew as hard as she could, watching as it clouded and spread in the air of the hallway.

"What was that?" Ron asked, confused.

"Nothing," Hermione replied quickly.

The Beauxbatons girls stopped walking. Hermione couldn't tell what they were saying, but they seemed to be asking Fleur if she was okay.

Hermione glimpsed the blonde amongst the fussing schoolgirls. Her hair seemed even more silvery than usual.

"Oh God," Ron groaned.

Hermione turned to look at her redheaded friend. His eyes were glazed and he had wrenched his school robes shut. Confused, Hermione looked around the hallway.

The boys all appeared to be acting strangely. Neville was bright red and holding a Herbology textbook in front of his crotch. Several boys were doing the same, or holding their robes awkwardly like Ron. All appeared to have glazed over eyes.

_The thrall… It must have increased it somehow._

Hermione turned to look back at the Beauxbatons girls. Fleur was in her eyeline now and looked distressed, her bright blue eyes taking in the reactions of the boys around her.

Perhaps Hermione had made an error in conducting this experiment so rashly.

Everyone around her looked so thoroughly uncomfortable.

"Jesus!"

Hermione looked and saw Graham Montague from Slytherin walking forward, his pants clearly tented at the front.

She had definitely made an error.

"Delacour," Montague grunted, reaching forward for Fleur.

Fleur moved backwards, avoiding his reach. He stepped forward again, trying to paw at the blonde's svelte body.

"Non!" Fleur insisted, her voice sounding stressed.

"Go on a date with me?" a boy called out from the hallway.

This seemed to encourage other boys, Hogwarts and Durmstrang alike. A number began to call out requests to Fleur—some of them far less appropriate than others.

Fleur's alarm peaked and she pushed through the crowd, storming off down the hallway. The occasional boy reached for her but she shoved them away roughly each time. She left her friends behind in her wake. The French girls all looked surprised and baffled, talking amongst themselves once Fleur had stormed off.

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt. After all, it was her stupid experiment that had supercharged Fleur's thrall.

"Ron… I've gotta go to the library," Hermione lied, pushing through the crowd and heading off in the direction that Fleur had gone.

She only had to follow the trail of dazed and awkward boys, soon finding Fleur blocked from a staircase. A cluster of Slytherin boys were aggressively asking Fleur out.

"I am not interested," Fleur was saying flatly.

"But—"

"She said she's not interested," Hermione interrupted, coming up beside Fleur. The Slytherins all glared at her, Crabbe and Malfoy amongst them.

"Stop trying to cock-block, Granger," Malfoy spat.

"And here I was thinking you couldn't get slimier," Hermione retorted. She took Fleur by the elbow, pulling the blonde away from the Slytherins and around a corner. She knew from sneaking around with Harry and Ron that there was a hidden tunnel just around the corner. She ducked behind the tapestry that hid it, pulling the shocked blonde with her.

Hermione leant against the cool stone wall of the tunnel, exhaling heavily. Fleur faced her, eying her curiously. Her hair was definitely more silvery and her eyes seemed more blue, almost glowing in the dim light.

"'Ermione, right?" Fleur asked.

Hermione felt her annoyance at the blonde swiftly return.

"Yes, it's Hermione Granger," Hermione replied. _Really?!_ She had met Fleur a few times now and yet the blonde _still_ couldn't remember her name?! Hermione felt her sympathy for the Frenchwoman ebb.

"Merci, 'Ermione," Fleur replied politely, "I do not quite understand what 'appened."

"It, er, seemed like your thrall was quite strong there," Hermione replied, trying to keep the guilt out of her voice.

Fleur eyed her with suspicion. Hermione had a horrible moment of wondering if Fleur could see straight through her. But then Fleur cocked her head to one side adorably, looking puzzled.

"'Ow do you know about zat?" Fleur asked.

"I like Magical Creatures," Hermione shrugged, "That and Rita Skeeter reported on your Grandmother being a Veela when covering the weighing of the wands."

"Zat 'orrible woman," Fleur growled before looking a little forlorn, "Alzough now I suppose even more people will zink of me as a creature. I just do not understand… My zrall is never zat strong! I can usually reel it in a little, too."

"Can you?" Hermione asked, fascinated, "I didn't know Veela could control the intensity of their thrall."

She made a mental note to add that fact when she was writing up her findings.

Fleur cocked her head to one side again, watching Hermione curiously. Her beauty was even more breathtaking up close. Hermione could almost count each one of her long, dark eyelashes. Her lips looked so plump and soft. She was slightly taller than Hermione, but maybe that was the heels that she always seemed to wear.

"You really are interested in Magical Creatures," Fleur surmised. She smiled slightly, "Is it you 'oo set up ze 'Ogwarts society for Elvish rights?"

"S.P.E.W., yes," Hermione replied, grinning, "I can't believe you've heard of it!"

"I am part creature, non?" Fleur shrugged, "It is ze kind of zing I notice."

"Hey, uh, if you get sick of the boys around here bothering you, I have a great place for studying down the back left hand side of the Hogwarts Library. You can always join me there for a break," Hermione offered.

She wasn't sure why she had offered.

Maybe it was because Fleur seemed a lot nicer in this encounter than she usually did.

Maybe it was because it would give her increased access to the part-Veela, making it easier for her to study her more.

Yes, it was probably that.

"Merci, 'Ermione," Fleur smiled gracefully, "Per'aps I shall."

Hermione felt herself smiling back.

"Er, well…" Hermione began, trailing off awkwardly.

Fleur sighed.

"I can feel ze zrall 'as subsided now," Fleur said, relief in her voice, "Zank you for 'elping me out. I really appreciate it, 'Ermione."

She stepped close to Hermione, entirely into her personal space. Hermione couldn't help but notice how nice Fleur smelt. She wondered if that was a Veela thing or just Fleur's good taste in perfume.

Fleur leaned in, kissing Hermione softly on one cheek, then again on the other cheek.

"Au revoir, 'Ermione," Fleur murmured softly.

And then she was gone. She slipped gracefully out of the hidden tunnel and back into the hallways of Hogwarts, leaving Hermione standing rigidly in the tunnel.

"Wow," Hermione murmured.

She slipped out of the hidden tunnel herself, heading off to the library almost in a daze. She had lost all interest in tracking down Ron or Harry for the remainder of her lunch break. Instead, she sat down in her favourite spot to study.

She pulled out her notebook, beginning to note down everything she had learnt from the day.

_'Veela can control their thrall, reeling it in if they want. Powdered witch hazel resulted in the part-Veela subject involuntarily increasing her thrall, losing control over it. Human boys nearby experienced extreme reactions to the thrall.'_

Hermione decided to finish off her notes with some general observations.

_'The part-Veela subject seems pleasant in a one on one encounter. She is more beautiful than the Veela textbook described. Her face is extremely pretty. Her voice is soft and velvety. Her body is very slight but still has curves. Smells extremely nice.'_

Pleased with her scientific findings, Hermione closed her notebook. She had learnt a lot that day.

* * *

Hermione was sitting alone in the Gryffindor Common Room late that night, thinking about her encounter with Fleur. She was leafing through her notebook, reviewing the notes she had made on the part-Veela.

She was interrupted from her thoughts as Harry clambered in through the portrait hole. He looked extremely rattled. He was very pale and kept running a shaky hand through his messy spikes of black hair.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked.

"Not really," Harry replied absently, coming to pace in front of Hermione.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked.

"They've told us. The First Task is in a week." Harry said, running his hand through his hair yet again, "What am I gonna do, Hermione? I have no clue how to prepare? How do you prepare for what you don't know?"

"Oh, Harry," Hermione replied, "I can help you."

The poor boy looked absolutely terrified. Harry was acting as if they had just told him he was going to be publically executed in a week's time. That's probably how he felt it would go…

"Thanks," Harry said shakily.

He covered his face with both his hands for a moment, seeming to wallow in the reality of the situation. He sighed heavily before lowering his hands again.

"Don't panic," Hermione advised him, "There are plenty of broad things we can cover that would protect you in a wide range of situations! Some good defensive spells, some good offensive spells… Perhaps some unlocking charms too? There might be a puzzle element to it."

"You know who among us is the best at strategy and puzzles," Harry said glumly, coming to sit beside Hermione.

Hermione's mind turned back to Ron's skill in Second Year when they'd had to play a terrifying life sized game of Wizarding Chess.

"Harry… We'll figure something out," Hermione said in a tone she hoped was reassuring, "You're not on your own with this."

Harry just shrugged noncommittally before sloping up the staircase to the boys' dormitory tiredly.

Hermione closed her notebook. She felt like she had been letting herself get distracted by her extra-curricular research. She needed to start spending some quality time in the library looking up solutions for Harry.

* * *

The next evening, Hermione sat in the depths of the Hogwarts library. She was making good on her promise to Harry.

The whole day, everyone had been buzzing about the First Task. To make things worse, Rita Skeeter had done a large write-up of all the Champions. Her write up of Harry was embarrassing to say the least.

Hermione cast a disgusted look at the folded _Daily Prophet_ on her desk. She'd incorrectly stated Harry was eleven, said he'd cried and whimpered through the entire interview, and depicted him as terrified. Well, he was terrified, Hermione supposed… But that was besides the point. Skeeter didn't know that.

She supposed at least the others had received poor write ups too. Viktor had been written up in a way that strongly hinted he was a Death Eater, something Hermione suspected had less to do with his actual leanings and more to do with his role of preventing the Scottish Quidditch team from reaching World Cup Finals. It was truly laughable considering the Durmstrang Headmaster Karkaroff was a former Death Eater—yet not an allegation had been cast at _him_ in the piece.

Fleur hadn't got off lightly either. Skeeter had had a field day with her Veela heritage. She suggested that Fleur had used her creature wiles to get selected (how the thrall could work on a goblet was beyond Hermione). She'd also clearly been tipped off on the incident the previous day with Fleur's out of control thrall. She detailed it unflatteringly, posing the question to readers whether students were safe at a school with a part-creature. She further queried whether Fleur had an unfair advantage over the others in the competition. Hermione couldn't even read to the end of that one.

Cedric's write up was the only one that wasn't _too_ bad. Although Skeeter had suggested that Cedric's father's Ministry connections might give him an advantage, she had actually described him a fairly positive way.

Hermione sighed, turning back to her textbook. She felt anxious green eyes on her.

Harry had been sitting at the table with her for most of the night. He'd barely been able to concentrate on a thing himself. Instead, he was posing constant questions to Hermione about what the First Task could entail.

It was proving less than helpful, breaking Hermione's own concentration frequently. She'd only managed to jot down half a dozen spells that might be helpful for Harry.

"Harry, maybe you should take a break?" Hermione said with a sigh, "Go talk to the guys in the Common Room?"

"Ron's in there," Harry frowned, "Maybe I'll take my broom out for a bit. An evening fly might clear my head."

"Good idea," Hermione smiled. She couldn't quite tell the boy outright that his anxious fidgeting was driving her crazy.

Harry swiped some books carelessly into his backpack before slinging it on. He shot Hermione a weak smile, looking like he wanted to say something, before turning and leaving the library.

Hermione sighed with relief, returning to her textbook on shielding charms. Whatever Harry faced, a good shielding charm would surely help.

She began to diligently copy down a mid-level one that didn't seem like it would be _too_ difficult to learn.

Hermione felt soothed by the silence in the library now. This corner was her sanctuary, hidden amongst large bookshelves and far away from the other tables. Now Harry was gone, it was back to being quiet. Hermione smiled slightly at the sound of her quill scratching the parchment.

Perfect.

She flipped the page of the book, eyes lighting up at a summoning spell. Now _that_ could be helpful for an unknown challenge.

She began to copy it down.

Hermione heard one of the chairs scrape back at the table and sighed. She hadn't even heard Harry clomping back over to the table.

"Harry, I've got this—" Hermione began, looking up from her notes.

Her breath caught in her throat at the beautiful girl gracefully sitting in the chair across from her.

"'Ermione, oui?" Fleur asked, cocking her head to one side.

Hermione suppressed a growl.

Fleur _really_ didn't know her name yet?!

" _Yep,_ " Hermione replied tersely, "Hermione Granger."

Fleur smiled sweetly at her. She seemed to be warming up to her, regardless of knowing her name.

"You said I could join you in zis area of ze library," Fleur reminded her, "To keep away from ze boys."

"Oh, right," Hermione replied absently. She wished she had brought her Veela notebook. It would have been a perfect night for making some more observations on Fleur.

No. She was here for Harry. She had to concentrate.

Hermione reluctantly dropped her eyes to the textbook in front of her. It was hard not to stare at the pretty blonde across from her.

Fleur took out some of her own books, spreading them out on the other side of the table.

"Zank you for inviting me to study 'ere," Fleur said, "Ze boys can get a bit much sometimes and I 'ave to prepare for ze First Task."

"Oh… Right…" Hermione replied. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly at a loss for words with the blonde. She was _never_ at a loss for words.

There was a clipping of heels and another Beauxbatons girl emerged from the bookshelves. Hermione recognised her as the dark-haired girl that Fleur often linked little fingers with while walking in the halls. One of her favourites for cuddling with against the cold. Hermione felt her stomach twist with a feeling she didn't quite recognise.

**"Fleur, there you are,"** the girl greeted in French.

Hermione wondered if they knew she could understand French. Her parents had taken her to France for a couple of holidays and she had insisted on taking French classes for the occasion.

"Bonsoir, Julie," Fleur greeted silkily, smiling at the dark-haired girl. Julie leaned in, kissing Fleur on each cheek.

**"I have been looking for you everywhere!"** Julie told Fleur, sinking into the chair beside Fleur.

Hermione found herself looking at the dark-haired girl. She was very pretty. Hermione chewed on the inside of her lip, watching the exchange.

Fleur looked up, casting her a curious look.

"Ah, 'Ermione, zis is my friend Julie," Fleur explained to Hermione.

Hermione nodded, dropping her gaze back to her textbook. She was determined to get this summoning spell copied down.

**"It is so cold in here,"** Fleur whined adorably. Hermione hid her smile. It was considerably warmer in the library compared to other parts of Hogwarts. Fleur really was sensitive to the cold. She would have to add that observation to her notebook when she got back to the dormitory.

**"Cuddle up then,"** Julie sighed with a smile in her voice.

Hermione heard chairs shuffling as Fleur moved to be closer to Julie.

**"You act as if it is such a chore for you,"** Fleur retorted.

Again, Hermione wondered if they knew she could understand them quite well.

**"Well, it is hardly a chore to have such a stunning girl in my arms so regularly,"** Julie replied flirtily.

Hermione almost snapped her quill in surprise. They _definitely_ didn't know she could understand them.

**"You are such a flirt,"** Fleur replied with a light chuckle.

**"I can't help it, you know it is always such fun when we play,"** Julie replied.

Hermione felt her face heating up a little bit. She felt like a weird kind of voyeur overhearing them speak so freely and playfully with each other.

The chair beside her drew backwards and Hermione was startled to see a small mini-Fleur drop into the seat beside her.

"Uh, hi?" Hermione greeted, surprised.

"'Ello," the small Fleur greeted.

Fleur turned her attentions away from Julie, smiling at the small blonde beside Hermione.

"Zis is my little sister, Gabrielle," Fleur explained, "She is only seven, but was allowed to accompany Beauxbatons for the tournament."

Julie was playing with Fleur's silky hair as she spoke. Hermione felt the odd feeling within her intensify. Julie leaned in, muttering something inaudible in Fleur's ear.

"Hello, Gabrielle," Hermione introduced herself to the small girl, wrenching her attention away from the teens across from her, "I am Hermione Granger."

Gabrielle extended a small hand. Hermione smiled warmly, shaking her hand. What an oddly formal little girl.

"Nice to meet you, 'Ermione," Gabrielle replied, "Are zere kids' books in zis library?"

"There are!" Hermione replied brightly, "There are books of almost every type you can think of in this library. Can you believe that?"

"Even Dark Magic?" Gabrielle gasped, her little mouth forming an 'o' of shock.

Hermione chuckled.

"Yes, though those are carefully guarded in the Restricted Section," Hermione informed Gabrielle, "So no naughty students can get their hands on those without special permission and supervision."

Gabrielle's eyes were wide as she listened to Hermione with interest. Hermione glanced up to see Fleur beaming as she watched the exchange, her bright blue eyes sparkling with good humour.

"Could you please show me ze kids' books?" Gabrielle asked politely, once her initial shock had faded.

"Sure," Hermione answered with a grin, "Follow me."

She got up and led the child through the tall and dusty rows of bookshelves that formed something of a maze in the Hogwarts Library. She'd spent so much of her time here over her years at Hogwarts that she knew the location of books by heart.

As soon as they reached the shelf with children's fiction, Gabrielle excitedly began rifling through the covers. Hermione suppressed a smile.

"You're an avid reader, huh?" Hermione asked.

Gabrielle stopped momentarily, looking up at Hermione with big blue innocent eyes.

"What does _avid_ mean?" Gabrielle asked curiously. She cocked her head to one side adorably, reminding Hermione of her older sister.

"Eager," Hermione explained, smiling warmly.

Gabrielle nodded vigorously.

"I usually get stuck in ze carriage during ze day," Gabrielle explained as she turned back to the books, "I 'ave a tutor in ze carriage, but apart from zat I am left to myself. Zere are no ozzer kids my age. I do not mind zough, I love to read."

"Fleur doesn't spend time with you?" Hermione asked, quirking an eyebrow. She hadn't read anything on Veela and family yet.

"She does," Gabrielle replied, pulling a book out, frowning at the cover, and putting it back, "But she is so busy wiz school and 'omework and training and ze Tournament… So she usually 'as to find time between zat."

"I see," Hermione replied, shuffling her feet, "Must be nice spending time with her when she is free, though."

"Oui!" Gabrielle chirped, "We tell each ozzer almost everyzing! She even mentioned you, 'Ermione!"

"She doesn't even know my name," Hermione scoffed in disbelief at the child, "She asks me if it is Hermione every time we meet."

Gabrielle giggled. Her voice sounded like a delicate tinkling.

"She zinks she is pronouncing it wrong," Gabrielle confided in Hermione, "Ze 'H' is so difficult."

"Oh!" Hermione replied, her mind digesting this new fact. She immediately began to rethink previous interactions in a new light.

"I want to read zis one!" Gabrielle exclaimed, holding up a book with a princess on the cover.

"Nice choice," Hermione replied in a quieter tone, "But you shouldn't talk too loudly or Madame Pince will tell you off."

Gabrielle gasped dramatically, her eyes widening again. Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. Gabrielle was such an adorable child. She gestured for Gabrielle to follow her, winding through the large bookshelves again. They turned into a small alley between shelves where they could see the table at the end.

Hermione froze.

They were still a way away from the table, but Hermione could quite clearly see what was happening. Fleur's legs were draped over Julie's lap. Julie's hand was deep in Fleur's silky hair and she was leaning in. They looked like they were having quite an intimate conversation. But what had stopped Hermione's legs from working was that Julie was intermittently dipping in and kissing Fleur on the lips throughout their conversation.

"Ugh!" Gabrielle exclaimed childishly beside her.

"Er, do they usually do that?" Hermione asked the small child. Gabrielle scrunched up her face and stuck her tongue out.

"Sometimes," Gabrielle replied, "So icky. At least Julie is cleaner zan some of ze boys Fleur 'as kissed in ze past—Yuck!"

"Yeah, kissing can be kind of gross," Hermione chuckled at Gabrielle's reaction, despite her shock, "So are Julie and Fleur… More than friends?"

"Non," Gabrielle shrugged dismissively, "Fleur said zey are just friends but zat sometimes zey like to play togezzer."

Hermione almost choked at that response, sure that Gabrielle was unaware of the double meaning of the words. Gabrielle grabbed her hand, pulling her back towards the table.

Hermione's head, always full of some train of thought or another, was now positively swirling. She was overwhelmed at all this new information about Fleur. That she had been nervous about getting Hermione's name wrong, that Julie and her clearly had a _very close_ friendship… It was all so much Hermione felt like her stomach was in knots.

Fleur and Julie stopped their kissing as Hermione and Gabrielle returned to the table. Fleur swung her legs off Julie's lap, turning back to face the table. She smiled at Gabrielle.

"Did you find a nice book, Gabrielle?" Fleur asked warmly.

"Oui! 'Ermione showed me a giant shelf _full_ of kids' books!" Gabrielle replied excitedly. She turned her chosen book around to show Fleur the cover.

"You love zose princess books," Fleur chuckled lightly, beaming at her sister.

Gabrielle smiled back, before opening the book and settling in to reading quietly. Fleur watched her with a warm smile for a while, before attentively turning to her own books and papers.

Hermione watched Julie out of the corner of her eye. The dark-haired woman flipped open a copy of _Witch Weekly_ and leafed through it idly. She was being entirely quiet, but Hermione still wished that Julie would just leave.

Somewhat sulkily, although she didn't quite know why, Hermione returned to her own book. The summoning spell… She had to copy this down correctly for Harry. No more getting distracted by her curiosity of Veela.

Hermione copied it down, as well as a handful of other good general Charms. She was working slower than she usually did, glancing up every now and again to look at Fleur.

Fleur seemed so relaxed it really changed her entire appearance. Whenever Hermione usually saw her surrounded by people, she always appeared so stiff and haughty. Now, however, she just looked serene and elegant. Hermione admired the way her hair tumbled just so as she read. Her handwriting looked to be elegant and looping cursive, her quill held loosely in her perfectly manicured hand.

Hermione was pulled from her thoughts by a tug at her sleeve. Gabrielle was looking up at her with sparkling big eyes.

"The princess in the book is half fairy!" Gabrielle told Hermione excitedly.

"Oh, er, that's exciting," Hermione replied with a polite smile.

Gabrielle beamed at her.

"Princesses in stories are _never_ part-Creature," Gabrielle informed Hermione, turning back to her book.

Hermione felt her heart swell for the small child then. She wondered how lonely it must be as a part-Creature. Too human to fit in with Creatures, too Creature to fit in with humans. Never really coming across others like yourself often.

Gabrielle happily went back to her book as Hermione looked over at Fleur again. She wondered yet again if she was crossing a line with her research on the part-Veela. Could thirst for knowledge be a bad thing?

Hermione shook her head, willing herself to keep her concentration for Harry. Enough thinking about Veela.

She continued taking notes for some time, until she was sure she had a good cluster of spells for her best friend.

She didn't realise how much time had passed until Gabrielle began to yawn widely beside her.

"Oh, Gabrielle, it is past your bedtime!" Fleur exclaimed, looking at her watch.

"I want to stay up," Gabrielle protested petulantly.

"Non, you must go back to the Carriage," Fleur sighed, "A shame, I still have so much work to get done…"

"Surely Gabrielle will be fine walking down one hallway and crossing the lawn to the Carriage?" Hermione asked. She wasn't sure why, but she was a little reluctant for Fleur to leave.

"Absolutely not," Fleur snapped abruptly, her eyes flashing. Hermione was surprised.

**"I can take her back to the Carriage,"** Julie interrupted, closing her magazine, **"I'm bored anyway."**

**"Would you really?"** Fleur smiled, **"I'm just so far behind on my work because of Tournament preparations."**

**"Of course, Fleur,"** Julie responded, standing up, **"Come on, little lady!"**

**"Don't call me that,"** Gabrielle replied, frowning. She appeared to be getting a little cranky. Julie laughed good-naturedly.

"Gabrielle, pack your things away," Fleur directed gently.

Gabrielle sighed dramatically, putting the book in her little backpack and slinging it on her shoulders. Hermione smiled at how adorable she was.

"Zank you for showing me ze kids' books, 'Ermione," Gabrielle smiled politely.

"No problem," Hermione replied warmly, "I'll see you around, Gabrielle. It was nice to meet you."

Gabrielle beamed, coming to stand at the end of the table. Julie came to stand by her, a hand on her shoulder. The dark-haired girl leaned in close to Fleur for a moment.

**"Maybe you could stay with me tonight. You seem stressed… I can help you relax a little?"** Julie asked in a low voice. But Hermione caught her words. She wondered if Julie meant them to sound as suggestive as they seemed when spoken in French.

Hermione felt her jaw tensing. Julie had been nothing but polite, and seemingly nice to Fleur. But something about the girl just set Hermione on edge.

**"I'll be fine,"** Fleur smiled at her friend, **"Thanks for taking Gabrielle back."**

**"No problem,"** Julie replied, pecking Fleur on the cheek.

"Julieeeee," Gabrielle whined, "Stop playing with Fleur and take me to the Carriage!"

Julie and Fleur both chuckled. Julie waved politely at Hermione before ushering the small little mini-Fleur out of the library.

Hermione felt a little awkward suddenly on her own with Fleur.

"I am sorry for snapping before," Fleur said quietly, "Gabrielle's zrall is starting to come in already. I do not like 'er moving around ze castle unaccompanied."

"Already?!" Hermione yelped, "She is a child!"

"Oui, it develops during childhood," Fleur's face darkened, "Gabrielle is still too innocent to know ze affect it 'as on men. For now, it merely draws zem in and makes zem notice 'er presence. Ze sexual desire does not come until teens. But zat does not mean zat some men do not 'ave bad intentions when it comes to children zat draw zeir attention."

Hermione felt a horrible shiver down her spine. Predators existed in the Muggle world too. She remembered the creepy men that sometimes hung around outside kids' schools and the way parents and teachers warned children about them. Not to accept any treats from people they didn't know, not to get in a car with strangers… Her skin crawled at the thought of Gabrielle unintentionally drawing in people like that.

"I'm sorry," Hermione replied hollowly, "It seems unfair for her to bear more risk than other children."

Fleur shrugged.

"Part of being a Veela is always being gazed upon by boys and men," Fleur replied neutrally, "I just do not want her to lose 'er innocence too early because of it."

_Is that what happened to you?_ Hermione died to ask. But she kept quiet, not wanting to be rude.

Fleur returned her intense gaze to her books, continuing to work on her studies.

Hermione, in turn, returned to her work for Harry. She decided it might be helpful to draw up a timetable of when they could practice some of these spells together. She knew Harry's class schedule as well as she knew her own. It wouldn't be hard to find times they could meet up.

When Hermione had finished sketching that out, she began loosely planning what spells they could cover in what session. She loved some good organising. She was sure Harry would call her a lunatic for being so obsessively prepared—but hey, he would thank her when he pulled through the First Task alive.

Hermione heard a slight growling of Fleur's stomach across the table. Dinner that night had been exceptionally heavy—a full red meat and potatoes kind of offering. Fleur mustn't have been able to stomach much.

"Er, I have some strawberries in my bag if you're hungry," Hermione offered. Truthfully, she had obtained them from the kitchen earlier in the day when she had been weighing up another research expedition. She supposed just giving them to Fleur for the sake of it may cheer up the stressed blonde, even if it didn't provide Hermione with any particular findings for her research.

"I _love_ strawberries," Fleur grinned.

Hermione hid her knowing smile, fishing around in her bag for the strawberries. She had barely got them out of her bag when Fleur rushed to sit beside her.

Hermione didn't even need to offer them again. Fleur dived in immediately, happily eating them with relish.

Hermione felt herself blush as Fleur shuffled her chair over and nestled into her. She kept plucking strawberries from the small container in Hermione's lap, devouring them hungrily. It was like the olives; Fleur was so content with her food that she was comfortably nestling in to Hermione against the cold. It really seemed to lower Fleur's guard.

"So… Uh… How are you going with preparing for the Tournament?" Hermione asked, suddenly a little flustered.

Fleur let out a small contented moan as she bit into another strawberry, smiling happily. She turned her bright blue eyes to look at Hermione.

"I am going okay," Fleur replied with a shrug, "As okay as one can be when preparing for ze unknown."

"Aren't you scared?" Hermione asked, surprised, "People have literally died in this competition before."

"Legends never die," Fleur said playfully, smiling cockily.

_Merlin, this woman._

Fleur was such a mixture of things. _So ridiculous, so mysterious, so unattainable._ Hermione frowned at the last thought. She didn't want to _attain_ Fleur.

"Such an ego," Hermione slipped out the comment by accident, but it caused Fleur to chuckle.

"Some people like an ego on a woman," Fleur countered.

Hermione had to disagree with that notion. The number of times she had been called bossy or a know-it-all for being self-assured certainly spoke to the contrary.

"You seem in better spirits," Hermione commented, changing the subject, "You seemed quite stressed before."

Hermione pointedly left out that she had understood Julie's French perfectly when she had stated how stressed Fleur was.

Fleur shrugged.

"I feel cheered up," Fleur said, grabbing another strawberry. She nestled closer into Hermione's side. Hermione could feel Fleur's body flush against the side of hers. It was very overwhelming.

She wasn't sure what the appropriate etiquette was here. Put an arm around Fleur's shoulders like her friends often did when she cuddled up to them?

"You are good company, you know," Fleur added, "And I do not say zat lightly to people."

"Don't you?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow, "You seem to have so many close friends."

"Mmn, but I 'ave decided zat you are much better company zan zem," Fleur said happily, polishing off yet another strawberry.

Hermione was a little floored. Fleur had warmed up to her so much already! Was it just the olives and strawberries? If so, that was major for her research on part-Veela. An ice queen like Fleur suddenly taking a liking to her so much after simple treats? That finding could be major in the academic world of Magical Creatures.

"Really?" Hermione asked, trying to hide her extreme interest.

"Really," Fleur replied with a coy smile.

"Even better company than Julie?" Hermione asked. She wasn't quite sure why she had asked that. It was a bit of stupid question really, and didn't help her with her research at all.

An unreadable expression rippled over Fleur's delicate facial features as her eyes seemed to gain intensity. Fleur looked at her intently for a moment, before pulling a smile on her face.

"Ah, well… She does not provide me wiz olives or strawberries," Fleur replied jokingly.

Hermione pondered all this for a moment. As much as she enjoyed spending time with Fleur and observing her, she was incredibly eager to write down all she had discovered in the evening. The last thing she wanted to do was forget a single detail.

"I should go," Hermione said suddenly. She withdrew herself from the cuddly Veela. Her stomach felt like it did a funny kind of wobble as Fleur made a little noise of protest at the loss in touch.

Hermione packed up her books and papers, trying not to overthink things. Instead she focussed on the findings she would be writing up in her notebook. She was feeling good. She'd come through for Harry and she'd _still_ managed to make progress on her research.

"Hmm, I suppose I will stay and continue my study on my own," Fleur said with a small frown.

"We can study together another time," Hermione offered, feeling a little bad all of a sudden. Fleur surprised Hermione by beaming again.

"I would like zat," Fleur replied. She stood up, kissing Hermione quickly on both cheeks.

Hermione felt her cheeks blush. She still wasn't quite used to the French custom.

"Er, goodnight," Hermione muttered. She turned on her heel, marching out of the library.

She was eager to get to the Gryffindor dormitories, looking forward to jotting down her findings and to showing Harry the plan for his preparations.

When she got to the Common Room, Harry still wasn't back, so she took the opportunity to grab her notebook from her room. She settled herself in by the fireplace to fill in her findings while she waited for him.

_'Part-Veela find their thrall developing in childhood. It starts as a pure pull of attention from males, before developing into the full attraction in their teens._

_Confirmed part-Veela love strawberries. Subject displayed raised mood and increased connection to researcher.'_

"Man, you spend so much time writing in that notebook," Ron commented, chucking a Quaffle back and forth lazily with Dean on a couch nearby.

"Yeah," Hermione replied distractedly.

_'Close friendships/relationships_

_Subject displayed physical intimacy with a close friend. Unclear if this is typical of Veela friendships, Veela dating, or relationships._

_Note close friend was also female. It raises the question: Do Veela exhibit same-sex attraction? If there are no male Veela, and if mating with a human male produces a part-blooded offspring—does this mean that full-blooded Veela are somehow produced by two mated female Veela?'_

Hermione tapped the feather of her quill against her lip. She hadn't meant to write down anything about Julie and Fleur. But she just couldn't get it out of her mind. But now it had started her on a whole other track. Did Veela reproduce in same-sex pairings? Did they mate in same-sex pairings? Was… Was Fleur attracted to women?

Hermione bit down on her lip, feeling her stomach squirm. The cruel little voice in her head was mocking her, reminding her of her own attraction to women.

No.

Hermione needed to focus on her projects. Not on herself.

"Where is Harry?" Hermione asked, shutting her notebook, "It seems awfully late for him to still be flying."

"Probably signing autographs," Ron muttered darkly, though he suddenly looked a little concerned.

"What?" Hermione asked, looking at the redhead suspiciously, "What do you know?"

"Nothing," Ron said quickly, before shuffling awkwardly in his seat, "Just… I might have prompted Hagrid to talk to him."

"Ron!" Hermione sighed, exasperated, "When is this stupid feud going to end? Harry needs our support right now. More than ever! He didn't put his name in the Goblet for Pete's sake."

Ron frowned.

"Yeah right," Ron retorted, "But anyway… It _was_ out of support. I might think he's an absolute prat, but I don't want the guy to die."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask more, but Harry himself climbed in the portrait hole.

Right on cue, Ron shot him a scowl and got up, storming to the boys' dormitory. Dean shrugged, picking up the abandoned Quaffle and following Ron.

Harry was pale. He came and threw himself into the couch beside Hermione.

"You okay?" Hermione asked, leaning forward.

"Dragons," Harry croaked.

Hermione felt her stomach drop in horror.

"Sorry… What?" Hermione asked.

"Th-the First Task is bloody Dragons," Harry stammered, paling further.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table with a stack of books in front of her. It was breakfast and Hermione had begrudgingly gone at Ginny's insistence. But she wasn't about to slack off on her study for Harry. She was terrified that if she didn't help him enough he would end up burnt to a crisp in front of her very eyes.

To her intense frustration, it seemed like all the books on dragons had been removed from the library prior to the Task. Hermione was kicking herself for not noticing their absence earlier. How could she not notice all the books on one subject disappearing from the shelves? She practically lived at the library!

She was currently making her way through a thick book on magical reptilians and another one on flammable magic. So far she hadn't found much that was useful. She hadn't even got to trying to find things on their claws and impenetrable hide yet.

She sighed, blowing a curly lock of hair off her face.

"He'll be fine," Ginny said to her reassuringly, "Where is Harry, anyway?"

"He couldn't stomach breakfast," Hermione replied with a frown.

The First Task was only a couple of days away and Harry's anxiety over it all was getting even worse. At least Hermione was still getting him to meet her for their practice sessions.

"Guess he would be finding it a bit easier if he had support from _all_ his mates," Ginny commented, pointedly glaring down the table at Ron.

"Yeah, well, we both know you can't force Ron to stop being a prat," Hermione said distractedly, "He just has to get over it on his own."

Her brown eyes roamed the Great Hall, settling on the Ravenclaw table. She found herself smiling slightly as she saw Gabrielle was at the table. She was sitting beside Fleur and they were talking together rapidly, sharing some fruit.

The smile fell off Hermione's face again as she noticed Julie on Fleur's other side, sitting extremely close to her. She wondered if they had kissed that day. Just what kind of friendship did they have exactly? Hermione would never in a million years kiss Ron or Harry, let alone 'play around' with them.

"Merlin, what did Frenchie do to you?" Ginny exclaimed, bringing Hermione back to her senses.

"Huh? What was that?" Hermione asked, trying to regain her composure.

"You were glaring at that girl beside Delacour like you wanted to tear her limb from limb," Ginny replied, "What'd she do to you?"

"Oh," Hermione was surprised, "Was I really looking at her like that? She hasn't done anything to me. She's just one of Fleur's friends."

"You really were," Ginny replied, unconvinced, "Anyway—when did you get on a first name basis with Delacour?"

"The couple times she sat at the Gryffindor table for meals," Hermione shrugged, hoping Ginny wouldn't pry further.

She wasn't sure why, but she didn't feel like telling Ginny about rescuing Fleur the day her thrall was bad, or about studying in the library with her. She wanted to keep her budding friendship with Fleur to herself. It just felt special somehow. Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Weird," Ginny commented simply, thankfully seeming to drop the subject.

Hermione got up to leave. She was due to meet Harry in an empty classroom on the second floor. Hopefully she could get in a decent amount of time with Harry before the first classes of the day kicked off.

"'Ermione!"

Hermione was halfway to the door when Gabrielle scampered up to her, eyes big and full of wonder.

"Oh, good morning Gabrielle," Hermione greeted, "How are you?"

"Will you be at ze library tomorrow night?" Gabrielle asked, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. She was truly adorable.

"Yes," Hermione replied.

"At our usual table?" Gabrielle asked, grinning widely.

Hermione smiled at that. She had only sat at that table with Gabrielle and Fleur the one time. It was really sweet that Gabrielle was already calling it their usual table. To think Hermione once thought she was terrible with children.

Fleur glided up behind Gabrielle, her hand linked with Julie's by their little fingers again. Fleur put her hand on Gabrielle's shoulder.

"Gabrielle, your tutor is 'ere to take you to your classes in ze Carriage," Fleur smiled, nodding towards a matronly-like woman by the door to the Great Hall.

"She said yes by ze way!" Gabrielle informed Fleur happily, before bouncing off towards her tutor.

**"Who said yes to what?"** Julie asked Fleur, quirking an eyebrow.

Hermione watched them curiously. She hadn't realised that Fleur had put Gabrielle up to asking her. She wondered how Julie would react to that news.

**"Nothing,"** Fleur replied dismissively, **"Come, we still have time to go back to the Carriage before class."**

Hermione, yet again, had a horrible feeling like she was a voyeur. Fleur looked at her, almost seeming like she wanted to say something.

"I will see you around, 'Ermione," Fleur said with a warm smile.

She glided off with Julie, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Hermione watched Julie and Fleur click out of the Great Hall in their high heels. They honestly looked like they could be models.

Hermione sighed, heading off to the Second Floor. She needed to push Fleur out of her mind for now. Harry needed her help.

Hermione was so intent on focussing that she walked right into Neville on the staircase. Neville stumbled, dropping the small plant he was carrying.

"Merlin! Sorry Neville!" Hermione gasped. She stooped to pick up Neville's plant and hand it back to him.

"Oh, thanks, Hermione," Neville replied, "It's no problem, really. I've got quite into Herbology lately. I was just taking this murtlap down to Professor Sprout before classes start."

"What's murtlap?" Hermione asked, her curiosity piqued. She hadn't heard of the plant before.

"It's an amazing little plant really," Neville explained, his eyes lighting up, "The leaves heal and soothe deep cuts. Great for first aid. You have to be careful where you plant it though, most Magical Creatures have weird reactions to it."

"Weird reactions…" Hermione said curiously. She had been feeling a little guilty about her research on Fleur lately. Partly because she needed to focus on Harry, partly because the blonde had turned out not to be as dreadful as Hermione had initially thought. But then her curiosity was _so_ strong. She wanted to be the one to make a ground-breaking discovery and lead the frontlines of Magical academia.

"Would I be able to have some cuttings?" Hermione asked, "Er, I mean, you know how accident-prone Harry can be. You can never be too careful being his friend."

"Sure," Neville shrugged, "This plant is a bit small for that. But I'll get you some when I next go to Professor Sprout's outer greenhouses."

"Thanks, Neville," Hermione smiled, "I gotta dash—I'm meeting Harry. See you in classes later!"

With a friendly wave, Hermione hurried the rest of the way to the second floor. She was relieved to see that Harry was only just placing his backpack down in the empty classroom as she arrived.

Harry had always been wiry and thin, but lately he was looking quite gaunt. He clearly hadn't been sleeping and was getting run-down. Hermione was beginning to really worry about him.

"So… Found a spell that gets rid of a dragon?" Harry asked hollowly.

"No," Hermione replied, "But I think we can come up with a strategy with the spells we have gone over so far."

"I can't just throw up protegos the whole time," Harry retorted, "Presumably, at some point I have to actually _beat_ the dragon."

"We don't know that," Hermione replied, "Maybe you just have to get past it. It is very difficult to stun a dragon, so I don't think they actually expect you to defeat it in a battle."

"Well, what do I do?" Harry asked helplessly, "How do I get past a bloody dragon? It's not like I can just fly past it on my broom."

"Well, technically you could," Hermione corrected him, slipping easily into her factual manner, "If you used that summoning spell I showed you."

"That accio one?" Harry asked. He went silent, tapping his chin with his long fingers.

"Harry, you're not thinking…" Hermione began in disbelief.

"I feel more confident on my broom," Harry replied stubbornly, "It's so easy to speed around and duck. I'll still practice those shield charms, of course! But I think I should practice summoning my wand."

_Merlin,_ Hermione thought to herself, _I'm going to need to look up some fire-proof charms for him._

* * *

"Waterproof! What bloody use is that?!" Hermione growled, tossing a thick tome down on the library table.

She had been scouring the library for hours and had no luck. It seemed just as the books on dragons had mysteriously disappeared, so too had the ones on fireproofing (if there even was such a thing).

In her sessions between classes and meals, Harry had begun to get the hang of the summoning charm. He had gone from being able to summon a quill from the other side of the classroom, to summoning a roll of parchment from the Gryffindor Common Room to the empty classroom.

It was quick progress for someone so young learning such a complex spell, but progress that was alarmingly slow considering the First Task was the very next day.

As such, Hermione had entirely skipped her dinner in order to find something to fireproof Harry—or at least his clothes—should he end up fending off a dragon without even a broom to help.

But it had been hours now and she had found nothing.

Hermione furrowed her brows, heading off to the section that had held information on shielding spells. Surely a temporary spell shield was along the same lines enough that there might be useful book or two?

To her intense distaste, the table beside the shelf was occupied with a cluster of Slytherins, her least favourite among them. Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, Millicent Bullstrode, Crabbe and Goyle sat around a large piece of parchment on which they were presumably sketching out plans for a class group project.

Malfoy's face lit up immediately when Hermione approached the bookshelf.

"Hey, Granger," Malfoy greeted with sickening sweetness, "Looking forward to watching Potty get absolutely annihilated tomorrow? We're going to head down early. Got to get a front row seat to see all the gore."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione snapped.

"I heard even the Weasel has abandoned him now," Malfoy continued, "Guess that makes you his only friend. But you're an expert on having no friends too, right?"

"Is zis boy bozzering you?"

Hermione's scowl all but melted off her face. Fleur had glided into the area, standing by a nearby shelf. Gabrielle was standing by her side, watching the scene with wide-eyed curiosity.

"Making friends with animals now?" Malfoy sneered, looking from Fleur to Hermione, "First Hagrid, now _her_? Is it because no real humans would be friends with you apart from Potty and the Weasel?"

"Do not speak to 'er zat way," Fleur interrupted coldly.

"It's okay, Fleur," Hermione said, gesturing her head for the Delacours to leave. She could handle herself and didn't want them getting caught up with the Slytherins and their infuriating jibes.

Crabbe and Goyle had begun to stare at Fleur. At Gabrielle too. It was unnerving Hermione. She felt strangely protective of the sisters.

"I suppose a Veela would make a better pet than a toad or an owl," Pansy said, tapping a finger on her chin mockingly, "But then, they don't send messages for you. Or do they? Granger—do you send your Veela over here to deliver notes around the school for you?"

"Veela are no pets," Fleur hissed, her eyes narrowing. It seemed like the Slytherins had hit a nerve. Bullstrode was sniggering and Malfoy and Parkinson were practically crowing.

Pansy stood up, slowly walking over to Fleur and Gabrielle. She sashayed as she walked, hamming it up for her audience of Slytherins.

"Yeah?" Parkinson sneered. She took out her wand and began twirling it in one hand. "Because my father and Draco's father work in the lawmaking part of the Ministry. Just one owl to daddy and I'm sure you'd end up collared and housebroken."

Fleur's eyes flared with anger. Hermione stepped in, grabbing Parkinson by the shoulder and wrenching her away from the Delacours.

"If you so much as _look_ at them the wrong way, I'll hex you every way to Sunday," Hermione threatened.

"As if!" Malfoy snorted, "You're too much of a goody-two-shoes."

"Was I when I punched you in the face, Draco?" Hermione asked, looking at the sneering blonde boy, "You all know how good I am at spellwork. Don't tempt me into practising my hexes on you."

Draco actually looked concerned at the reminder of the punch to the face. He paled a little. But soon he crossed his arms petulantly, scowling at Hermione.

"M-My father will hear about this!" Draco stuttered angrily.

"Mine too!" Parkinson agreed.

"Great," Hermione replied sarcastically.

Not wanting to tempt any further altercations, Hermione grabbed both Fleur and Gabrielle by a hand. She led them away, not releasing them until they had reached the far corner of the library where she spent her time.

"Zey were _awful!"_ Gabrielle exclaimed. Her little face looked thunderous. If it were any other situation, Hermione might have laughed at how cute Gabrielle looked when furious.

"Do all 'Ogwarts students zink such zings?" Fleur asked, her eyes still narrowed.

"A lot of Slytherins seem to," Hermione sighed, "They give me a hard time about being Muggle-born and Ron a hard time about being poor. Don't even get me started on how they treat Harry. Bigoted slimeballs, the lot of them."

Fleur shook her head.

"Merde," Fleur cursed quietly, "But no matter. I will not let zem ruin my evening. I 'ave a Task to prepare for and I was looking forward to spending time wiz you."

"Er, you were?" Hermione asked, blushing a little.

"Oui," Fleur smiled. She shivered a little as she took her satchel off her shoulder.

"Er, are you cold?" Hermione asked, feeling like an idiot for stating the obvious.

"Oui," Fleur groaned, "Madame Maxime insisted zat we only pack our summer uniforms. She zought zey would look better in ze media. I do not like ze cold at ze best of times, but it 'as been unbearable in zis uniform."

"You could have changed after dinner," Hermione said, eying said uniform. It really clung to Fleur's body sinfully well. Hermione felt her stomach flutter a little bit as she let her eyes roam a little.

"Well, I didn't want to waste time I could be spending wiz you," Fleur smiled charmingly.

"Oh," Hermione replied, startled.

"Per'aps I could just sit closely to you?" Fleur asked, arching an eyebrow, "You do seem to be quite… ah, 'ot?"

Hermione blushed at that, heavily.

"You mean I have a high body temperature?" Hermione half-squeaked. Fleur smiled broadly, before nodding her assent.

"English, it is difficult," Fleur apologised, smiling wide enough to show perfect white teeth. It made Hermione feel incredibly self-conscious of her own slightly buck teeth.

Hermione opened her bag and rummaged. Partly to distract herself from how flustered she was becoming, partly to help the friendly blonde.

"Er, here," Hermione said awkwardly, producing a gold and scarlet scarf, "Take this. You can keep it—I have loads."

"Really?" Fleur asked, her eyes widening slightly. Hermione wondered briefly if giving a Veela a piece of clothing somehow carried more significance than giving it to a human—like with House Elves. She would have to check her book after the First Task.

"Yeah," Hermione replied. She noticed Fleur shiver again, "Here, let me put it on you."

She looped the scarf around Fleur's neck carefully. She looked into Fleur's eyes, checking she was not crossing a line. The blonde beauty beamed at her, seeming happy at her actions. Hermione flipped Fleur's hair out and over the scarf before fastening it. She tugged it snugly against Fleur's elegant throat. Her eyes drifted back to meet bright blue.

"You know… It is considered insulting to touch a Veela's 'air if you 'ave not asked for 'er consent first—unless you are close wiz 'er," Fleur said softly.

"Oh, shit—sorry! I should have known!" Hermione babbled, going to remove her hands from the scarf. Fleur placed her hands on top of Hermione's, holding them in place on the scarf at her neck.

"You are lucky I consider you close," Fleur said, her full lips smiling widely, "Wait… 'Ow should you 'ave known?"

"Oh!" Hermione gasped. This time she really did yank her hands away from Fleur. She had almost revealed she had been studying up on Veela—dangerously close to revealing her research project, "No reason. Just basic consent, you know?"

Fleur regarded her curiously for a moment, before nodding slowly.

"'Ermione, I am 'ungry," Gabrielle whined from across the table. Hermione inwardly thanked the small child from breaking the awkward moment between her and her elder sister.

"Well, I have some honey-coated peanuts," Hermione said with a smile, fishing around in her bag again.

"Mmn, I _love_ 'oney!" Fleur purred happily, sitting down at the table.

Truthfully, Hermione had intentionally picked up the peanuts from the kitchen knowing she would see the Delacours. She'd asked Dobby for some honey snacks and he had provided her with a small bag of the nuts.

Hermione sat down at the table, smiling as the Delacours happily tucked into the snacks she had provided. Gabrielle had pulled out her little princess book for the evening. Fleur, on the other hand, had a thick book that seemed to be in a language neither French nor English. Hermione wondered if it was written in some kind of Veela language.

She wanted to consult the book on Veela about it, but she was beginning to feel more and more guilty about her research. Gabrielle and Fleur really seemed to be taking a liking to her. It was easier to take a purely academic view when she thought Fleur was nothing but a cruel ice queen. But now Hermione knew her to be warm, friendly and cute, it was an entirely different story. The guilt was creeping into her mind more and more.

Hermione tried to use her God-given ability to compartmentalise her thoughts and feelings, staring down intently at the book in front of her. It didn't have anything on fireproofing, but it did have defensive spells in it. Maybe something in there could help Harry.

Hermione read the entire book cover to cover.

Nothing.

Her jaw was stiff from tensing so hard in stress. She hadn't even noticed that Fleur had crept her chair close enough to her to lean into her once more, Gabrielle cuddled in on her other side.

"Godammit," Hermione sighed, shutting the cover.

"'Arry will be fine against ze dragons," Fleur murmured softly into Hermione's air.

Hermione jolted a little.

"How do you—"

"Maxime was wiz 'Agrid zat night. Ze night 'Arry presumably found out?" Fleur said, her eyes sparkling.

"Nothing gets past you," Hermione grumbled, "I don't know why you are so chipper about dragons."

"Zey are creatures, non?" Fleur said with a charming smile, "People always make creatures out to be far more dangerous zan zey are."

That actually brought Hermione some relief and she smiled.

Gabrielle yawned.

"Well, I 'ave to take zis one back to ze Carriage for bedtime," Fleur said, looking a little reluctant.

"Non, I want to stay and 'ang out wiz 'Ermione," Gabrielle protested sleepily, "You 'ogged 'er all night."

To Hermione's surprise, Fleur blushed prettily.

Hermione stretched, feeling her back click satisfyingly after poring over books for hours. She was feeling certain there was nothing more she could find for Harry.

"Well, I'll walk you two out then," Hermione offered, "I think I'm about done here anyway."

"Bon," Fleur smiled widely.

As Fleur moved away from Hermione to pack up, Hermione was suddenly struck by how much she missed the sensation of the blonde leaning into her. She found her eyes glued to the pretty part-Veela. Fleur packed up her own things gracefully, before helping Gabrielle with her little backpack. Hermione felt her heart swell with how patient and caring Fleur was with her young sister.

They walked to the library exit together, Gabrielle practically dragging her feet with sleepiness. Despite her obvious tiredness, she was still adorably insistent that she could carry on hanging out with Hermione if only Fleur let her.

As they reached the corridor where they would have to part ways, Fleur turned to Hermione, smiling shyly.

"Are you sure it is okay if I keep ze scarf?" Fleur asked softly.

Gabrielle was hanging back a little way behind her, playing with the buckle on her backpack that had seemed to have gotten twisted.

"Of course," Hermione replied, smiling at the blonde.

"'Ermione…" Fleur said slowly, "Don't treat me badly, promise?"

Hermione was stunned. It seemed to have come from nowhere. Fleur had said the request with such sadness and her eyes had looked so stormy that Hermione wondered if she had said or done something to concern the blonde.

"Er… Have I missed something?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Fleur didn't have an opportunity to respond as a loud yelp caused both girls to turn to Gabrielle.

Gabrielle's backpack had been wrenched from her hands and tossed on the stone floor. Crabbe and Goyle were standing either side of her, each holding a fistful of hair. Gabrielle had begun to cry.

"The fuck?!" Hermione swore, whipping out her wand.

Hermione was fast, but Fleur was faster. Hermione didn't hear what the hex was, but both boys immediately let go of Gabrielle's hair with loud wails. As Hermione watched, angry red boils rose on their forearms and hands.

Draco and Pansy Parkinson whipped around a corner, Millicent Bullstrode close behind.

"What the bloody hell have you lot done to Crabbe and Goyle?!" Malfoy demanded, narrowing his eyes at Hermione and Fleur.

"Maybe they should keep their goddamn hands to themselves!" Hermione shot back, furious.

"It's her fucking fault, luring us in!" Goyle grunted, glaring at Gabrielle.

"We only wanted to know what her hair felt like!" Crabbe wailed, looking at his hands in disbelief.

"Do you realise how _creepy_ that is?!" Hermione bellowed, "She's a child!"

Hermione advanced, her wand raised. Fleur had run forward and knelt by Gabrielle, attempting to console the terrified girl.

"Back off, Granger," Malfoy growled, as he and Pansy stepped in front of the pitiful figures of Crabbe and Goyle.

"You really have their backs for creeping on a child?!" Hermione asked shrilly, stunned at Malfoy and Parkinson's commitment to Slytherin.

"Back. Off." Parkinson repeated slowly, echoing Malfoy's sentiment. Both of them had drawn their wands.

Fleur stood suddenly, startling the Slytherins. As quick as a flash, Malfoy and Parkinson shot off spells. Not even thinking, Hermione leapt in front of the Delacours. She cast a quick _protego_ and threw a bat bogey hex, getting Parkinson right in the face.

Unfortunately for her, the shielding charm—cast in a haphazard rush—only deflected Parkinson's spell. Malfoy's wand beam hit Hermione.

At first she didn't even know whether it had even had any effect. Then, with a lurch of horror, Hermione realised her front teeth were slowly elongating.

"'Ermione, are you okay?" Fleur asked, rushing to her side with Gabrielle.

The Slytherins scattered as footsteps indicated someone walking towards them with purpose. They disappeared, nursing the effects of their hexes. Hermione half-heartedly gestured for Fleur and Gabrielle to leave too. They shouldn't get in trouble because of her tendency to be hot-headed.

The Slytherins needn't have scattered, as it turned out. Snape appeared in the hallway, robes billowing menacingly.

"Professor!" Fleur called out, "Some Slytherins attacked 'Ermione!"

Snape didn't bother to hide his eye-roll, sauntering up to the group of girls.

"And what exactly did they do?" Snape asked drily.

Hermione's front teeth were now past her chin and still steadily growing. Fleur gestured to Hermione's mouth impatiently.

"See for yourself!" Fleur snapped.

"I see no difference," Snape sneered.

Hermione broke then. It was too much. All her carefully compartmentalised fears and anxieties suddenly burst forth all at once. Snape's mocking was just the straw that broke the camel's back. She burst into tears.

"Pig!" Fleur cursed at Snape as he turned on his heel, sauntering away and ignoring Hermione's tears.

Hermione's body wracked with sobs. Everything was suddenly swirling around her mind in clear focus.

Harry could die tomorrow.

She was quite clearly attracted to women.

People at school were always going to give her a hard time.

Hermione had tried to stand up for the Delacours and ended up looking like a rat-toothed freak in front of them.

Fleur… Fleur was a nice girl and Hermione cared how she felt. She should never have started this research project on her. It made her no better than the Slytherins who treated Gabrielle so selfishly and objectively. But could she really stop when she had made such ground-breaking findings?

She was terrified and humiliated.

"'Ermione,"

The Delacour sisters were calling her name, trying to pull her to her feet.

"Are you okay?" Gabrielle asked, seeming to forget her own tears.

"We can take you to get ze teeth fixed," Fleur soothed, rubbing a hand on Hermione's back.

It just made her feel worse.

"No," Hermione managed to choke out between sobs.

Fleur didn't listen, pulling Hermione to her feet with surprising strength. Hermione covered her face with her hands, though the teeth were already beginning to extend past them.

Fleur looped her arm through Hermione's, pulling her forcefully down the hallway in the direction of the Hospital Wing. Gabrielle tugged at Hermione's sleeve to assist.

Hermione, lost in her rarely loose emotions, was helpless as the Delacour sisters dragged her off to the aid of Madam Pomfrey.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione withheld a growl as Madam Pomfrey pulled back the curtain around her bed and offered her a hand mirror.

For a spell so hastily cast—and one that had taken effect so fast—it was taking so long to remedy. Hermione had had to stay overnight in the Hospital Wing, woken by Madam Pomfrey every hour to check the progress of her front teeth and take another dose of potion to reverse the hex.

They were slowly retracting and Madam Pomfrey was making her check in the hand mirror to indicate how close they were to their original state.

It had been the worst night's sleep Hermione had ever had. Even in between being woken up, she had been in excruciating discomfort. She would not recommend anyone having their teeth shrunk.

Around 6am though, had come a silver lining. Hermione had checked on her teeth and they were finally back to normal—regular old buck teeth. She had realised then that if she waited a little longer, she would end up with the front teeth she had always wanted.

So as she looked in the hand mirror a final time, she smiled.

"Looking about right?" Madam Pomfrey asked her.

"Looking perfect," Hermione replied.

"Okay, well, we're all done now," Madam Pomfrey said, clucking her tongue, "Stay out of trouble."

Hermione frowned at that, but was too exhausted to argue the point. Instead she thanked the healer and went on her way.

Hermione only had time for the quickest of showers and outfit changes before making it to the Great Hall to have some breakfast. To her disappointment, Harry was already gone.

"He got called out with the other Champions about ten minutes ago," Ginny said, standing up and downing her pumpkin juice in one go, "In fact, we'd better head off if we want to get seats. Where have you been? I didn't see you around the girls' dormitories at all last night or this morning."

"Slytherins," Hermione replied darkly, "I'll tell you later. I need to check in with Harry before the Task starts."

She snatched an apple, racing off.

"You'd better hurry if you want to catch him!" Ginny bellowed after her.

Hermione ran as fast as she could across the vast grounds of Hogwarts. The arena and tents were near the edge of the lawn, close to the pathways that led to Hogsmeade.

Her lungs were beginning to burn as she reached the tents.

Hermione doubled over, trying to catch her breath as she looked at the tents. Three of them. The largest one in the centre was clearly for healers, or waiting for the task, or both. The other two must be changing tents.

A blush unrelated to her mad sprint across the lawn broke out as Hermione noted that Fleur was possibly in one of the tents. Possibly in a state of undress.

_'Right, well, just because I've realised I'm into women doesn't mean I'm going to think about them instead of checking on my best friend,'_ Hermione thought bossily to herself.

Her lips tightened into a thin line as she walked over to the middle tent. She found a loose edge, pulling it up and ducking under it.

Sure enough, she emerged just behind the four champions. They were standing in a line, apparently waiting for Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch to get organised.

Cedric Diggory was clad in his Hufflepuff sports uniform—a yellow and black striped singlet and black shorts. Whether he was shivering from cold or nerves, Hermione couldn't tell.

Viktor Krum was standing tall beside him, his hair freshly shaved. He was dressed in a blood-red tight fitting tee and some black shorts. His face was stony and still, emotionless.

Harry was in a red and gold striped Gryffindor singlet and some grey shorts. His hair was messy and tousled, his glasses slightly askew. He looked so much younger than he was.

Hermione's eye was caught by Fleur beside him. Her hair was up for once. The platinum blonde, silvery mane was knotted into a bun on top of her head. She was dressed in navy sports leggings and a powder blue crop top. Hermione felt her jaw slacken.

No—she was here for Harry.

"Harry," Hermione hissed.

Harry turned around, jumping.

"'Mione!" Harry gasped, "I couldn't find you anywhere this morning. Fleur said something about Slytherins—"

"Don't worry about that right now," Hermione interrupted, "We don't have much time. Are you okay? Feeling all right about your strategy?"

"As all right as I'll ever be," Harry said, sporting a lopsided smile despite the dire situation.

Hermione bit her lip. It was horrible having to see Harry right before he might be shredded to pieces by a dragon.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione said fiercely, pulling him into a hug.

Hermione hugged Harry as tightly as she could, releasing him only when there was a blinding flash of light.

"Oh, young love!" a sickly sweet voice rang out.

"That's Skeeter," Harry muttered under his breath to Hermione, a scowl overtaking his features.

"We aren't in love," Hermione told the woman flatly. She had blonde curly hair in a short bob. She was pale and had blood red lipstick that matched her blood red claw-like nails. In some minds, she might be considered attractive. But Hermione hated the way her features were contorted into a sinister looking smirk. Everything about her screamed that she was a snake.

"Hmm, a little overly defensive, perhaps?" Rita Skeeter smirked.

"Ignore her," a silky sweet voice beside her murmured.

Hermione finally turned to look at Fleur, her breath catching in her throat. That athletic outfit really left nothing to the imagination. Hermione swallowed heavily.

"Er, good luck Fleur," Hermione croaked.

She didn't even give Fleur a chance to reply, instead ducking out of the tent again.

"Hermione, there you are!" Ginny called out, waving to Hermione.

She was walking past the tents amongst the throngs of students. Luna Lovegood was on one side of her and Ron was on the other. Hermione waved, heading over to her friends.

"Hey," Hermione greeted, "Sorry, I just had to check on Harry. I feel awful for him."

Ron, surprisingly, didn't make a jibe about Harry deserving it for putting his name in the goblet. He was looking quite pale and sombre this morning.

"Harry will be fine," Luna said dreamily, "Boys like Harry aren't so easily defeated."

For once, Luna's meaningless drabbles made Hermione cheer up. She actually had a point. If Harry could wriggle out of being killed by Voldemort, he could wriggle out of being killed by a dragon.

Still, Hermione was bloody nervous.

The group managed to get a good seat despite the crowd, only a few rows back. Hermione sat between Ginny and Ron, her jaw tense as she saw the first dragon led out by Charlie Weasley and get set up in the arena.

Ludo Bagman stepped out into the arena, eying the dragon carefully. He kept well at the other end of the arena, smoothing down his bright purple suit. Ludo held his wand against his throat with one hand, and lifted his other arm theatrically.

"Ladies and gentlemen! I welcome you all to the FIIIIIRST TAAAASK of the Triwizard Tournament!" Ludo opened, "We have one hell of a task for our Champions this morning!"

Hermione felt her knuckles turn white as she fisted her hands in her robes nervously.

"This morning our Champions must get past a DRAGON! The dragon will be guarding a clutch of its own eggs—but here's the catch! Among the dragon's eggs is one special gold egg. Our Champions must get past the dragon, retrieve the egg and make it back in one piece in order to complete the Task!"

Hermione winced. It wasn't like she had expected the full task would somehow make it easier, but it was still jarring hearing the extent of what Harry would have to pull off.

"Now, back behind the scenes, we've had our Four Champions select their dragon, as well as their order," Ludo Bagman continued, "First up, we will have CEDRIIIIC DIGORRY—"

The Hogwarts students erupted into wild cheers.

"—Facing off against a Swedish Short-Snout!"

The crowd was deafening now, the full audience reacting to the dragon choice and excited for the competition to get started.

With a little more fanfare and theatrics from Ludo Bagman, the Head of Magical Games and Sports leapt over a partition to safely settle himself into a seat away from the action.

Cedric emerged, looking even more pale and boyish than usual.

Hermione felt her stomach wrench. She really didn't want to see a teenager slaughtered by a dragon in front of her.

Cedric's hand was noticeably trembling as he stepped further into the arena.

The Swedish Short-Snout was sitting quite quietly at the other end of the arena, but was watching Cedric carefully.

Cedric kept taking careful steps forward.

He had got about a third of the way across the arena with his slow steps before the Short-Snout suddenly sat up, letting out a deafening roar.

Cedric froze in his tracks, any remaining blood in his face draining.

"Blimey!" Ron yelped, "Diggory looked like he was about to piss himself!"

"With good reason!" Hermione commented, her eyes glued to the dragon as it began to slowly step forward.

Cedric suddenly shot out a spell, which bounced off the dragon's skin.

"Dragon hide is virtually impenetrable!" Hermione shouted, waving a hand in frustration, "He must know that!"

"Damn, Hermione," Ginny commented beside her, "I've never seen you so passionate about sports."

The dragon was angered now, marching towards Cedric at pace. Cedric, positively quaking now, cast a spell at a rock. The rock slowly began to turn brown and fluffy.

"What in the bloody hell is he doing?" Ron asked, baffled, "Turning a rock into a giant cushion?"

The Short-Snout got within swinging distance of Cedric, swiping a clawed arm out at the Hufflepuff.

Cedric dodged, but apparently not fast enough. He landed roughly, a hand tightly gripping an arm. Crimson blood began to run down his pale arm.

Fortunately, the rock had finally formed into some kind of misshapen dog, letting out a distracting gravelly bark. The dragon fixated on it immediately, gnashing its teeth angrily.

As the dragon was distracted, Cedric stumbled in, grabbing the golden egg.

It took him some time to get back, ducking between rocks while the dragon chased the rock-dog. But eventually Cedric got back, wincing as he held the egg up.

The cheers from the crowd drowned out Ludo's commentary as Cedric was quickly accompanied back out of the arena and to the tents.

Next up was Viktor. He was not as visibly nervous as Cedric, but was still noticeably cautious of the dragon.

He seemed more intelligent about his approach, if not a little brutish. He cast a nasty looking hex that hit his dragon right in the eyes, causing it to panic and trample its own eggs. Hermione couldn't help but feel for the poor mother dragon. She could see Charlie Weasley noticeably swearing on the sidelines, angered at the destruction of the mother's eggs.

Still—Viktor got his egg.

Hermione wasn't even listening to the commentary or crowd's response to Krum. No. She knew Fleur and Harry were still to come.

Ludo introduced Fleur next.

Fleur stepped confidently into the arena, standing with her hands on her hips. Yet again, Hermione found herself slack jawed at Fleur's appearance. Her Beauxbatons uniform showed off her figure as it was, but this was ridiculous.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Hermione felt an awkward fluttering in her stomach.

_'Damn, am I really that gay that I'm checking out Fleur?'_ Hermione thought wildly to herself, _'Who am I kidding… Who wouldn't appreciate how utterly gorgeous she is?!'_

"Meeeerliiin!" Ron exclaimed, letting out a low whistle, "Check out Fleur Delacour!"

Hermione elbowed Ron in the ribs, hard.

"Hey! Don't talk about her like that!" Hermione exclaimed—despite the fact she had, in fact, been checking out Fleur Delacour.

Ron rolled his eyes.

Hermione didn't notice though. She was transfixed with the blonde. She wanted her to do well.

Fleur stepped out, confident as always, eying the dragon as if it were an equal. Hermione wondered what Fleur's strategy would be.

Fleur held out an elegant wand, swirling it slowly as she muttered words.

"What spell d'ya think she's doing?" Ginny asked Hermione.

"Shush! I'm watching Fleur!" Hermione hissed.

Suddenly, Fleur ceased the slow swirls, flicking her hand in complicated moments. A silvery beam shot out from her wand, pink flashes sparking off the beam as it travelled through the air.

The crowd let out a collective 'ooh' as the strange spell-beam arced through the air.

Hermione was fascinated. She'd never seen such complex wand work. Fleur was _gifted._

The spell hit the dragon right in the eyes. Hermione winced a little, waiting for whatever cruel effect would take hold on the dragon. But the dragon just fell asleep, curling up on the ground calmly.

Fleur strolled across the arena then, gliding confidently as if she were merely on her way to class.

The crowd was going wild, people standing on their feet and whooping. All Hermione could hear was cheers and catcalls for Fleur. She found herself getting to her feet, her hands at her mouth.

Fleur plucked the gold egg easily out of the bunch, putting it under one arm and heading back towards the other end of the arena.

She was just about there, just about at the end of the arena, when suddenly the dragon let out a snore and a jet of flames.

"Fleur!" Hermione screamed in horror.

Fleur turned around, her eyes widening with surprise. She athletically flipped out of the way, the flames seeming to lick at her but not quite get her.

She landed with fine form at the end of the arena.

The crowd went wild.

Fleur smiled cockily, lifting the egg up above her head. But Hermione could see a slight wince pinching her pretty features. Evidently the flames _had_ got her.

Hermione paled, biting her lip. Her stomach was in knots.

She didn't have time to dwell on it though, as Harry was rapidly brought out to face off against a Hungarian Horntail.

Harry looked so wiry and vulnerable. Hermione was full of terror for her best friend.

Harry stepped out into the arena and the crowd went deathly silent. It seemed everyone was unsure of how he would go.

"Potter Stinks!" a voice called out from a green and silver cluster of Slytherins.

"You can do it Harry!" Hermione shouted out.

"Yeah, come on, Harry!" Ginny chimed in.

"Harry, you've got it mate!" Ron shouted out, to Hermione's surprise. Ron shrugged beside her.

Harry lifted his wand, calling out " _accio Firebolt!_ "

Hermione tensed. Nothing seemed to happen.

The crowd began murmuring.

Harry, undeterred, stepped closer towards the dragon.

"No, no, no, no," Hermione muttered.

The Hungarian Horntail raised up, roaring. The sound sent a chill down Hermione's spine. She felt like she was going to throw up.

She reached out her hands, one hand grabbing Ginny's, one hand grabbing Ron's. She squeezed them so tightly her knuckles were white.

"Come on, Harry," Ron urged beside her.

There was an almighty roar as the dragon opened its mouth and breathed a large plume of fire at Harry.

Ginny let out a blood-curdling scream beside Hermione, squeezing her hand back. Ron's mouth fell open in horror. Hermione went numb. They couldn't see Harry because of how big the flames were.

As the flames and smoke finally subsided, the group got to their feet. Collective sighs were released as they saw Harry, ducked behind a rock, his chest heaving.

Thank God for his Quidditch reflexes.

The Horntail was not deterred, swiping a clawed arm out and tossing the rock aside as if it were a mere pebble. Exposed once again, Harry looked up at the dragon, his face set with determination.

"This dragon is _way_ more aggressive than the other ones!" Ron protested, "It's not bloody fair!"

The dragon roared again, releasing another large plume of flames and smoke.

Hermione squeezed Ginny and Ron's hands so tightly she was sure she would break bones. But that was the least of her fears right now. It felt like her heart was in her throat. She was sure Harry wouldn't have had time to dodge that one.

But as the smoke and flames cleared, Harry was okay and standing there in one piece. Better than okay. He was holding his arm in their air, firmly clutching his Firebolt.

"It bloody worked!" Hermione gasped, tears springing to her eyes.

Harry quickly mounted his broom, kicking off from the dirt ground of the arena and flying up into the air.

The next five minutes felt like thirty as Harry had considerable trouble losing the dragon, even with his skilled flying.

But finally, thankfully, Harry snatched the golden egg as easily as if it were a large snitch. He came to a landing on the ground, holding the egg triumphantly above his head.

The crowd went well and truly insane, students of all schools cheering at the insane and death-defying feat they had just witnessed.

Hermione didn't wait for scores, leaving Ginny, Luna and Ron to get the details. She had to see Harry. And Fleur. She couldn't believe she'd just seen both of them cheat death back to back.

Hermione was just about at the tents when she was accosted by Neville, carrying yet another bloody potplant.

"Hey Hermione!" Neville greeted, as casually as if their classmates hadn't just faced off against dragons mere minutes earlier.

"Hey Neville," Hermione replied distractedly, "I'm actually just on my way to see Harry, so…"

"Oh I just wanted to share this murtlap with you," Neville replied, handing her a fistful of leaves, "You said you were interested."

With all the drama lately, Hermione had entirely forgotten her curiosity over murtlap and its effect on magical creatures. She grabbed the leaves from Neville, eager to just end the conversation and get back to checking in on her friends.

"Right, well, thanks—" Hermione started.

"You know, if you're interested in plants, I just heard about a really cool one!" Neville babbled enthusiastically, "Gillyweed! You see, it—"

"Thanks, but I'm really in a hurry, Neville," Hermione interrupted. She felt a bit rude, but she had priorities.

"Oh, right," Neville replied, smiling shyly, "Well, er, see you around, Hermione."

Hermione nodded politely but impatiently, taking off again. She ducked inside the main tent, looking around eagerly.

Sure enough, beside a surly looking Krum was Harry. He was having an ointment rubbed on his arm by Madam Pomfrey.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, unable to stop herself from beaming, "You did it! A perfect summoning spell!"

"Yeah," Harry replied, smiling his little lopsided smile, "Thank God, right? Got a few burns though, but nothing major."

Hermione looked at the burn that Madam Pomfrey was attending to. It hardly looked 'nothing major,' but she wasn't about to rain on Harry's parade.

"Er, have you seen Fleur?" Hermione asked. Now she knew Harry was okay, she had to check on Fleur.

"She just finished being healed," Harry shrugged, "She's gone back to the girls' tent for a moment before the scores are released. If you want to talk to her, you should do it now before Maxime comes back from the stands."

"Right," Hermione blushed, nodding. Harry looked at her curiously, but just nodded back.

Hermione hurriedly left the tent, ducking into the tent she'd confirmed was the girls'.

Standing with her back to Hermione was Fleur. She was still in her athletic gear, a little dirty on one side, but otherwise in one piece. She was stretching her arms out, oblivious to her visitor in the tent.

Hermione, instead of immediately announcing her presence, took a moment to take in Fleur's appearance. Fleur really was stunningly gorgeous. She looked much shorter outside of her heels, about Hermione's height, or even a little shorter than the brunette. She had a small frame with a petite waist and lean limbs. However, as Hermione's eyes dragged down Fleur's toned back to her ass, she confirmed that Fleur still had curves where it mattered.

Fleur turned around suddenly.

"Er—Uh—I was just—Hi!" Hermione stammered, blushing with awkwardness.

"'Ermione!" Fleur called out, rushing over to the brunette. She pulled her into a tight hug. Her body pressed so tightly against Hermione's was doing nothing to ease the brunette's awkwardness.

"Y-You were bloody brilliant, Fleur," Hermione said, "The complexity of your wandwork, the humane way in which you dealt with the dragon, that fantastic flip at the end… Wow!"

"Merci," Fleur smiled warmly, releasing Hermione from the embrace. Her smile faltered for a moment, "Wait, what 'appened to your teeth?"

Hermione touched at her lip self-consciously, closing her mouth for a moment to hide her teeth.

"Er, I may have let Madam Pomfrey reduce them just a slight bit more," Hermione confessed, "I always hated how they were a little buck."

"I zought it was cute," Fleur said, pouting slightly.

Hermione felt a warm blush burn her cheeks again. She was running on fumes today, not having slept much at all the previous evening. That and the non-stop drama over the past 24 hours had totally exhausted her. She was in no position to take unexpected compliments from a gorgeous girl.

"I… Uh…" Hermione stammered for the third time. She was _never_ at a loss for words—to a fault! How many times had her fellow students got annoyed at her for speaking her mind or butting in? And now? The famous Hermione Granger was rendered speechless. Not by a great academic problem, but by a pretty girl.

"What is zis?" Fleur asked curiously. She plucked the bundle of leaves from Hermione's hand, before the brunette could register what was happening.

"No, wait—" Hermione started.

Fleur brought the leaves to her face, inhaling deeply.

"Oh! Murtlap…" Fleur's words trailed off.

Hermione snatched the leaves back from Fleur's hand, tossing them to the floor quickly.

"Fleur, are you okay? I heard that murtlap can affect—"

"Magical Creatures, oui," Fleur replied, breaking out in a goofy smile and giggling. Hermione was stunned.

Then she noticed it. Fleur's pupils were HUGE.

"Fleur?"

Fleur looked at Hermione, a slightly glazed look to her eyes.

"'Ermione, 'ave you always 'ad such curly 'air?" Fleur asked, cocking her head to one side, she reached out, running a hand through it, "Woah, it feels so good! You should… You should make a potion of this…"

"Of what? My hair?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brows.

Fleur didn't seem to follow, suddenly paying attention to her hand as it ran through Hermione's hair.

"Do my 'ands look weird to you?" Fleur asked.

She pulled her hands up and held them in front of her face, gazing at them intently.

"Are you… _high?_ " Hermione gasped, suddenly realising the effect the murtlap had had on Fleur.

Fleur giggled in response, before suddenly looking confused.

"Wait, what were we talking about?" Fleur asked.

"Merlin, Merlin, Merlin!" Hermione gasped, pacing about the small tent, "I have to get you out of here before Maxime sees you. Before they announce the scores! You could get disqualified. Or worse—expelled!"

"An ex… spell…" Fleur commented, giggling again, "Because I wouldn't be able to do spells anymore?"

"Right," Hermione agreed absently, grabbing Fleur by the arm.

She had to get the blonde out of there. But to where? And how long would the effects of the murtlap last? She had no clue.

But maybe the book from Hagrid explained it. It was on her bedstand in the Gryffindor dormitories.

"Come on," Hermione urged, pulling Fleur out of the tent.

"Where are we going?" Fleur asked, a relaxed smile on her face.

"To get some answers," Hermione replied simply, dragging the girl with her.

Hermione had been terrified that someone would spot her absconding with the Beauxbatons Champion. But thankfully, everyone was still in the arena awaiting the scores. She pulled Fleur across the lawn and into the castle with minimal issues—apart from Fleur being highly distractible.

"I knew I never should have started this," Hermione cursed to herself. If only she had never started her research project in the first place. She never would have asked Neville for murtlap and never would have ended up accidentally getting Fleur high. Now the blonde was risking expulsion because of her. Not to mention the consequences Hermione would face if everyone found out she was the one to drug the Beauxbatons Champion. Mistake or not, it would definitely look like she was attempting to rig the competition in Harry's favour.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione flipped through the pages of the green book rapidly, trying to find something – anything—on murtlap.

"What is zat book?" Fleur asked.

"Nothing!" Hermione replied, adjusting the book so that Fleur wouldn't be able to see the cover.

Hermione was perched on the edge of her bed, trying to simultaneously read the book but also keep an eye on the high part-Veela standing before her.

Fleur clambered onto the bed beside her, kneeling on it as she inspected a fluffy grey cushion. She patted it slowly.

"Zis feels _good_ ," Fleur hummed.

"Er, great," Hermione commented.

She was juggling a lot at once. Fleur was a truly gorgeous woman and still in her athletic leggings and crop top. Having her clambering all over Hermione's bed and making little noises of pleasure was beyond distracting for the brunette.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, focussing on the text in front of her. She had found a number of interesting new passages, but infuriatingly, nothing on murtlap.

"Merlin," Hermione groaned, casting a glance at Fleur next to her. At least she seemed happy and relaxed. Maybe she could just hide her in the girls' dormitories until the effects had worn off?

Almost on cue, Crookshanks leapt onto the bed with a friendly chirrup.

Fleur's eyes widened and she immediately scooted back on the bed, withdrawing to the area reserved for Hermione's pillows.

"Waow," Crookshanks meowed.

Fleur paled.

"Er, Fleur, are you okay?" Hermione asked.

"Get zat _critter_ away from me!" Fleur insisted, holding a pillow up in front of herself like a shield.

"Fleur, Crookshanks is just a cat," Hermione explained calmly, "Granted—I'm fairly sure he's half Kneazle—but a cat all the same. He won't hurt you!"

"I _'ate_ cats," Fleur whimpered, quivering.

_'Oh Merlin,_ ' Hermione thought to herself, _'Just what I need… Her to take a turn into a bad trip…'_

"It's fine, Fleur, really," Hermione insisted.

Crookshanks chirruped again, walking over to Fleur curiously. His fluffy tail waved in a harmless little question-mark shape.

Fleur wailed, leaping over the bed and into Hermione's lap. The green Veela book was knocked to the floor as Fleur straddled Hermione, burying her face into Hermione's curls.

"He's harmless," Hermione repeated, running her hand through Fleur's silky blonde hair. The part-Veela was actually trembling. Merlin, the murtlap was doing a number on her.

Crookshanks, bored again, leapt off the bed and scampered out of the dormitory. Hermione kept stroking Fleur's hair soothingly.

She should tell Fleur that Crookshanks was gone now, but she was enjoying having the blonde in her lap a surprising amount. Fleur was so warm and soft. Plus, even though she had just fought a dragon in a dirt arena, she still smelt amazing.

"Mmn, 'Ermione, 'ave I ever told you 'ow good your 'air feels?" Fleur murmured into Hermione's curls, apparently calm again.

"Yes, you, back at the tent just before," Hermione smiled.

"Did I?" Fleur asked, leaning back. She looked so adorably confused.

Fleur leaned back a little far and Hermione put her hands on her hips to hold her in place. She bit her lip. It felt way too good holding Fleur in her lap like this.

She glanced up, blushing slightly. The glazed look in Fleur's eyes gave her a pang of guilt.

_'Okay, who do I know who can help when it comes to a problem with magical creatures?'_ Hermione thought to herself frantically, _'There's no way I can go to Pomfrey or McGonagall… I would be in a world of trouble…"_

"Hagrid!" Hermione exclaimed, suddenly hit with a brainwave.

"'Agrid?" Fleur asked in her thick French accent.

"Yes, er, we're going to visit Hagrid," Hermione said, "Can you get off me?"

Fleur slid off Hermione, getting to her feet.

"'Agrid is dating Madame Maxime," Fleur giggled.

"Yep," Hermione sighed. How was she going to get Fleur out of the castle and over to Hagrid's hut without being spotted by anyone? The Task would definitely be over now and people could be anywhere.

Hermione had another brainwave.

"Stay here a moment," Hermione asked Fleur. Fleur nodded, still quite dazed.

Hermione raced over to the boys' dormitory, digging through Harry's trunk until she found his Invisibility Cloak. She ran back to the girls' dormitories as fast as she could, alarmed as she saw people entering the Common Room on her way back.

Thankfully, Fleur was where she left her.

Hermione's stomach wrenched violently as she realised Fleur had picked up the green book from the floor and her notebook, though hadn't opened them yet. She seemed more concerned with stroking the leather on the notebook cover.

"Fleur!" Hermione gasped.

Fleur looked up with a wide smile.

"Leather-bound books just _feel_ better, don't zey?" Fleur marvelled.

"Right," Hermione replied, satisfied that Fleur had been too distracted with the book covers to inspect any further.

She snatched the books from Fleur, shoving them roughly in her satchel.

"Let's go," Hermione insisted, "Have you ever been under an Invisibility Cloak before?"

"Mn, no!" Fleur replied, fascinated, "A fun date idea?"

"Ah, could be?" Hermione replied, blushing. She was flustered enough without Fleur babbling about dates people could go on.

"Bon," Fleur replied, "Let's go!"

Hermione put her satchel on and flung the Invisibility Cloak over them.

Thankfully, apart from the distracting sensation of being close to Fleur under the cloak, it actually wasn't too hard to sneak Fleur out of the castle and across the grounds. The blonde was thankfully distracted by her curly hair again.

Hermione pulled the cloak off them as she knocked on the door of Hagrid's hut.

Hagrid answered the door promptly, surprised to see them.

"Hermione," Hagrid greeted, "This is a bi' of a surprise! I though' ye'd be out wi' Harry celebrating th' First Task 'n' all!"

"Hagrid, I need your help," Hermione said, pushing past the large man and pulling Fleur into the hut, "My friend here is part-Veela and… Er… I accidentally exposed her to murtlap."

"Oh!" Hagrid exclaimed, scratching his chin through his dense beard as he observed Fleur, "Well, ye'll be higher than a fairy a' yuletide!"

"Yes, she is… But how do I stop it?" Hermione asked desperately.

"Ye can't," Hagrid replied in his bassy voice, "Bu' it doesn' last long. When did was she exposed t' it?"

"Uh," Hermione looked at her watch, trying to wrack her brains as to when she would have entered Fleur's tent, "About an hour ago?"

"Ah, no worries then," Hagrid replied, his eyes crinkling as he smiled reassuringly. He turned to Fleur, "How about ye go lie down on th' couch over there?"

Fleur, yawning now, nodded. She calmly went and laid down on the couch.

"No worries?" Hermione replied, anxious.

Hagrid gestured a dustpan-sized hand to his small table and chairs.

"It'll be wearing off any mo now," Hagrid replied, "Best thing t' do is let her sleep th' last of it off. So, y' wanna tell me why you got Harry's competitor hopped up on drugs?"

Hagrid rummaged around before he settled down in a chair, making them a cup of tea. Hermione joined him at the table. To her disappointment, he pulled a cloth off a basket, revealing some more of his signature rock cakes.

"Er, I think I'll stick to tea," Hermione said politely, "Anyway… I didn't get her high on purpose. It was an innocent mistake. I happened to have some murtlap on hand and she grabbed it to see what it was. I hardly told her to hold it to her face and inhale!"

"Ye, but mos' creatures susceptible to murtlap are qui'e curious of it," Hagrid replied, "How did ye' happen to have murtlap of all things?"

Hermione looked guiltily down at her mug of tea.

"Neville gave me some," Hermione half-admitted.

It seemed as if Hagrid could see through her, as he sighed heavily.

"Ye always were awfully curious o' Magical Creature folk," Hagrid said, sipping at his own tea, "You should be careful though. There's a thin line between curiosity an' treatin' someone like an object. An' I oughta know, it ain't easy at the bes' o' times bein' part Creature amongst the humans. Th' las' thing ye want is for your friends to be treatin' ye different too."

Hermione looked up then, surprised by Hagrid's candour. He usually didn't talk about his obviously part Creature heritage.

"You're…"

"Half-Gian' yeah," Hagrid grunted, looking wistfully out of a window, "People always treated me diff'rent coz of it."

Hermione sighed, guilt overtaking her.

"It's my fault," Hermione said mournfully, "My stupid curiosity is what got her in this state," Hermione gestured to the dozing part-Veela on the couch, "Whether it was an accident or not. What do I do, Hagrid?"

Hagrid considered the situation for a moment, scratching his beard again.

"Well, if it were me tha' you'd dosed," Hagrid mused, "I spose I'd wanna know. I'd be upset, granted, bu' at least you'd been up front wi' me so we could move past it."

"Upset?" Hermione asked, her stomach twisting badly.

"Yeah," Hagrid grunted, "I mean, nobody wants te feel like a lab rat. It's not as if ye were running full on experiments an' a research project on her, but it'll still hurt the lass to know you put her in harm's way out of your curiosity."

Hermione felt her stomach twist even more violently.

She wanted to leave. Every fibre of her being was screaming at her to get out and run from the horrific situation she had caused.

But the only thing worse than researching Fleur and accidentally drugging her would be to leave her to wake up in an unfamiliar place with a strange man looming over her.

"Right," Hermione said in a small voice.

"Hermione, ye'd never hurt anyone on purpose," Hagrid counselled.

"Of course not," Hermione replied. But somehow that didn't seem to matter if the person had still got into harm's way because of her anyway.

Hermione changed the subject abruptly, asking Hagrid about how things were going with Madam Maxime. From what Harry had described of the night he tailed them to see the dragons, it sounded like they were dating.

Sure enough, Hagrid's face lit up and he spent a solid half hour happily telling Hermione about Maxime. It was new, he explained, but he was very optimistic and excited. It was really quite sweet. Hagrid hadn't dated anyone in the years they'd known him. It was about time he found some happiness.

"'Ermione?"

Hermione turned around in time to see Fleur getting up from the couch, her hair a little tousled but otherwise looking back to normal.

"Er, hey Fleur," Hermione greeted sheepishly, "This is Hagrid."

"Nice to meet you, 'Agrid," Fleur nodded, "Apologies for my state."

"Not a problem!" Hagrid assured her, waving his hand dismissively, "An' don' worry. I won' be telling Olympe. Us part-Creatures have te stick together."

"Merci," Fleur sighed.

"Come, I'll walk you back to your Carriage," Hermione offered, rubbing the back of her neck, "Thanks Hagrid."

"No problem, Hermione," Hagrid smiled, "You look after yourself, now."

Hermione awkwardly stepped out of Hagrid's Hut with Fleur. Fleur seemed a little awkward now. They walked beside each other in uncomfortable silence for half the walk to the Beauxbatons Carriage.

"I'm so sorry about the murtlap," Hermione finally said, breaking the excruciating silence, "My friend Neville is obsessed with Herbology and handed me some as I was on my way to see you and Harry. I didn't stop to think about how it could affect you, honest!"

"It is okay, 'Ermione," Fleur said gently, "I know many people who do not know of ze affect murtlap can 'ave on a number of Creatures and part-Creatures."

"Oh," Hermione replied simply. She _had_ known it affected Creatures and part-Creatures, just now how it affected them. She felt full of guilt.

They reached the Beauxbatons Carriage.

"I am just a little embarrassed about my behaviour," Fleur admitted, "I didn't mean for you to see me like zat."

"Fleur! It was my fault, not yours," Hermione said, looking at the blonde guiltily.

Fleur shook her head.

"It was an accident—nobody's fault," Fleur conceded, "I just… I don't like ze zought zat you could see me in such an unflattering state."

"Fleur," Hermione tried to reason with the blonde.

Fleur shook her pretty head.

"I really need a shower," Fleur said, changing the subject, "I will see you around, oui?"

"Er, oui," Hermione replied awkwardly.

Fleur, a light blush on her cheeks, stepped elegantly into the Beauxbatons Carriage, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Hermione groaned, turning and wandering listlessly back to the castle.

The whole research project was a disaster.

Yes, she had found some amazing things out about part-Veela, but she was starting to see that maybe there were more important things in the world than learning and knowledge.

Fleur really felt like one of those things.

Hermione walked in autopilot, storming through the halls of the castle. She was utterly exhausted and consumed with guilt.

Worst still, now she finally had a moment without drama for the first time in almost a day, she was finally mulling over the realisations she had come to. She'd realised last night that she cared what Fleur thought. She cared about what happened to the Delacour sisters and didn't want anything bad to happen to them, intentional or not.

Hermione found herself in the library. She smiled humourlessly. Even in autopilot she was drawn to knowledge.

This was exactly the part of her that had caused all this trouble.

Hermione wrenched her satchel off her shoulder, grabbing the Veela textbook and her research notebook out of her bag. She stuffed them forcefully into a nearby rubbish bin, angry at herself.

* * *

When Hermione made it to the Gryffindor Common Room, she was almost bowled over. It was incredibly loud and plastered in bright red and gold decorations.

Hermione was immediately accosted by Harry and Ron, arms around each other's shoulders.

"Made up then?" Hermione asked, arching an eyebrow.

"'Mione, you saw what I saw, right?" Ron said incredulously, "Nobody in their right mind would secretly sign themselves up for that!"

"Right," Hermione replied.

"Merlin, what has your panties in a twist?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Long night," Hermione sighed, "I was in the Hospital Wing all night because Malfoy and his goons hexed me. It made my teeth grow down past my chin! It was such a painful remedy too. Honestly, I just need some sleep."

"Those bastards," Harry cursed, "Do you need us to have a word to Malfoy?"

"I already got him with a hex of my own," Hermione sighed, "I just need some sleep."

"Okay, well, good idea!" Ron said, brightening, "Fred and George are arranging a party tomorrow night to celebrate the Champions. Best get rested up for the festivities!"

Hermione just grunted in response, tiredly setting off to the girls' dormitories.

She took a long shower and got into her pajamas, despite it only being late afternoon. Climbing into her bed and pulling the curtains around it, Hermione was struck by how her pillows smelt like Fleur. She wondered again if it was a perfume or if Fleur naturally smelt like flowers.

Hermione sighed heavily, inhaling the scent and letting her body relax.

It was okay.

She'd got rid of the notebook and the textbook. The effects of the murtlap had worn off. Nobody had caught Fleur while she was high.

Hermione could turn it around.

She sighed, beginning to relax.

But now her mind turned back to the previous evening. How she had snapped and everything she had carefully avoided thinking about had rushed forward.

She'd been worried Harry would die.

_'Well, he didn't,'_ Hermione thought to herself, _'If anything, he absolutely nailed the First Task.'_

She'd also been upset about her research on Fleur and looking after the Delacours. Well… That one hadn't gone as swimmingly. But at least she had got Fleur safely back to her Carriage and got rid of her research materials.

_'I can't undo my mistakes… But I can make a fresh start,'_ Hermione thought.

What else had she been worrying about?

_'That you're into women,'_ Hermione's inner voice reminded her. She blushed, despite being alone in the secrecy of her bed.

She'd been so busy with everything else she hadn't had time to think about it.

_'Yet you still had time to check out Fleur's ass in the Champion's tent,'_ the little voice in Hermione's mind reminded her. Hermione blushed further.

Hermione felt renewed guilt. Surely it wasn't very moral to be checking out her new friend's body at every opportunity.

She rolled over in her bed, pulling her covers over her head.

_'But Fleur herself was kissing a girl in the library… Remember?'_ the little voice in Hermione's mind reminded.

_'That was Julie,'_ Hermione reminded herself, _'Julie is almost as drop-dead gorgeous as Fleur herself. There is no way someone like Fleur, even if she_ is _into girls, would ever be into someone like me. It really isn't right to be checking her out.'_

Hermione shut her eyes tightly, willing on the sleep she so desperately needed.

* * *

Hermione walked into the Great Hall the next morning, finally feeling well-rested.

She was looking forward to finally finding out the scores for the First Task at the Gryffindor table.

Sure enough, she had barely sat down between Ginny and Ron when an owl arrived, depositing her _Daily Prophet_.

Hermione looked at the front page, which predictably had a summary of the First Task in one corner.

_'Triwizard Tournament First Task Rankings:_

_1= Harry Potter at 40 points_

_1= Fleur Delacour at 40 points_

_2 Viktor Krum at 36 points_

_3 Cedric Diggory at 35 points_

_Details on the Task performances at page 6_

_Details on the Champions' romantic lives, page 7'_

"Wait—what?" Hermione had a horrible thought, recalling Skeeter's comment about her and Harry.

Sure enough, when she leafed to page 7, she saw a large photo of her and Harry embracing inside the tent.

Underneath Skeeter had written up how Hermione had snuck into the tent 'to see her love one last time before the Task.' Hermione let out a growl of annoyance.

Her eyes flicked down and she saw a blurry far-away photo of Viktor and a vaguely female blob entering the Durmstrang ship. Skeeter had wildly speculated over who the 'mystery woman' was. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Cedric had got off lightly, as he actually _did_ have a girlfriend—Cho Chang. Nothing appeared to be too salacious or twisted about his write up.

Hermione's eyes widened as she saw the last scoop. A photo of Fleur and Julie. It was the two girls smiling at each other right by the Beauxbatons Carriage. They seemed to be joking with each other before Julie leant in, kissing Fleur sweetly. Hermione felt her stomach wrench. The write up from Skeeter was incredibly unflattering.

_'It seems the Veela blood in her veins is not the only unnatural thing about the blonde vixen from Beauxbatons. The Champion appears to prefer the company of other women—as evidenced by a steamy make out in a little-known part of the Hogwarts library._

Hermione halted at that. Nobody had been there except for her and Gabrielle. In fact, Hermione had never seen Skeeter in the library before.

_A curious choice for the blonde—considering males are affected by her thrall. With girls, on the other hand, Delacour has to rely on her own personality—which is icy at best.'_

Hermione scowled.

"Woah!" Ron exclaimed, peeking over her shoulder, "Fleur making out with another chick? Hot!"

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione growled, "It's a load of rubbish."

"You and Harry, maybe," Ron conceded, "But look at that photo!"

"Skeeter is a menace," Harry commented darkly from across the table, shaking his head. He had his own subscription and had just read the piece himself.

Ron let out a low whistle.

"Say, since you're just going to throw out the paper anyway, d'ya think I could keep it?" Ron asked, positively drooling as he looked at the photo of Julie and Fleur.

"You're a pig," Hermione growled, balling up the paper and tossing it further down the table.

"Hey!" Ron yelped.

"You know what? I've lost my appetite," Hermione retorted, getting up from the table.

"Merlin, I dunno why she's so mad about two bloody dykes getting it on," Ron commented as Hermione stormed away from the table.

Hermione balled her hands into tight fists. Ron could really be a jerk sometimes.

Hermione stormed into the Entrance Hall before stopping in her tracks. Fleur herself was in the Entrance Hall, having an intense looking conversation with Julie. Julie looked up at Hermione, said something to Fleur and then walked out of the Entrance Hall, looking very put out.

Hermione felt her stomach twist again.

_'I have no right to feel jealous,'_ Hermione reminded herself.

"'Ermione," Fleur sighed, looking harassed, "Ah, you 'aven't seen ze paper by any chance, 'ave you?"

"I have," Hermione replied, "Are you okay?"

"Zere is no relationship wiz Julie," Fleur said quickly, "Zat zing in ze library was one of ze last times we kissed. Ze photo was an old one from soon after we arrived 'ere."

"Okay," Hermione replied. She had to admit, she was a little happy to hear that, not that she would admit it, "Are you okay, though? Its been a full on couple of days for you."

"I am okay," Fleur replied, raising her chin proudly. But then her smile faltered a little bit, "So, ze part about you and 'Arry?"

"Utter bollocks," Hermione responded, "Never even kissed. We're just mates."

"Bon," Fleur nodded.

She looked a little uncertain for a moment, shuffling in her heeled boots. She was casually dressed today; a pair of tight black jeans, black heeled boots, a green jumper and a grey peacoat.

"How's Gabrielle?" Hermione asked, wanting to shake the blonde out of her discomfort. It didn't appear to work. She seemed anxious.

"Fine. She was a little annoyed zat she was not allowed to watch ze First Task," Fleur said dismissively before taking a deep breath, "… Are we okay?"

Hermione was surprised. If anything, _she_ was worried that Fleur would have got angry at her overnight about the murtlap incident. Maybe this was a good time to try and set things right in her friendship with Fleur.

"Of course," Hermione replied, "Say… What are you doing today? It's the first Hogsmeade Weekend of the school year. It might be fun to go together, maybe get a drink?"

Fleur's face lit up instantly. Hermione relaxed. Her friendship didn't seem in too much jeopardy with the blonde.

_'Now just try not to check her out,'_ Hermione told herself.

"Zat sounds tres bien, 'Ermione," Fleur smiled widely, "What time shall we go?"

"After lunch?" Hermione suggested.

Fleur nodded excitedly.

She looked so utterly beautiful with her excitement. Hermione always felt so privileged to see the usually icy and reserved blonde revealing her emotions freely. Her blonde hair was framing her face and her blue eyes were bright and sparkling.

Hermione felt her stomach flip.

_'Don't check out your friend. Do not check out your friend. You've already run a secret research project on her and accidentally got her high… You have to avoid doing anything else that crosses any kind of line,'_ Hermione told herself firmly.

* * *

Hermione met Fleur dutifully just after lunch. She was even more stunned at how pretty the part-Veela was. She seemed to have put on some makeup since Hermione had last seen her in the morning.

Hermione spent the whole walk to Hogsmeade inwardly chiding herself for noticing just how beautiful Fleur was looking. She was determined to focus on being a good, platonic friend.

However, her face reddened a little as Fleur asked if they could have their drink at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop instead of the Three Broomsticks. It made it seem almost like a date.

But she doubled down with her resolve, avoiding any too-long glances, any accidental brushes of hands, and any words that could be considered too friendly.

She sat across the table from Fleur, gazing at her. Merlin, it was easy to get lost in those bright blue sparkling eyes.

Fleur told Hermione at length about how adorably sulky Gabrielle had been about missing the First Task. It melted Hermione's heart. She couldn't wait to see the lively child again.

"I have to say… You were so amazing in the First Task, Fleur," Hermione said with a smile, "I cannot believe how advanced your spell-work is!"

"Can't you?" Fleur replied, arching an eyebrow cockily.

Hermione swallowed. Fleur was quite hot when she was cocky.

"Er, and that flip at the end to dodge the flames!" Hermione continued, undeterred.

"I can do a lot of zings," Fleur replied, smiling and looking at her. Hermione felt like Fleur's gaze was practically smouldering. She had to change the subject.

"So, it looked like you had a little argument with Julie this morning," Hermione said, sipping at her tea. She couldn't help herself with the subject change. She was jealous that Julie got to kiss Fleur and curious as to what was going on between the two friends.

Fleur sighed, putting down her peppermint tea. She looked out the window, looking conflicted.

"Do you really want to know about zis?" Fleur asked, looking a little uncomfortable.

Hermione was even more curious now.

"Yeah," Hermione replied, leaning forward, "I mean if you're comfortable talking about it… That is."

Fleur sighed.

"We… We've always kind of… Blurred ze lines of our friendship," Fleur said awkwardly, "Zere are not zat many ozzer girls at Beauxbatons zat like girls too, non? It was fun to play around wiz each ozzer but zere was always ze understanding zat we were nozzing more zan friends."

Fleur bit her lip and looked down at her cup of tea, running a manicured finger across the delicate china saucer.

"Okay," Hermione nodded. So it kind of sounded like they just fooled around with each other when they were bored because there were no other girls at Beauxbatons that liked girls.

"So when I told Julie zat we could not kiss or," Fleur blushed and looked away, "Or anyzing else, I expected she would be fine wiz it. But… It turns out she wants to be more zan friends now."

"Oh," Hermione replied, her stomach dropping a little, "And you don't want that?"

"Obviously not," Fleur said, making a vague gesture to the table.

"Right," Hermione concurred, before scrunching her face up in confusion, "Wait, what?"

"You are kidding… Right?" Fleur asked, her smile beginning to falter.

"Kidding about what?" Hermione asked, drawing a blank, "Am I missing something?"

Fleur's smile entirely fell off her face.

Hermione felt a dawning sense of horror, like she had just made a terrible mistake—although she had no idea what.

"Is zis not a date?" Fleur asked slowly.

Hermione choked on her mouthful of tea. It took her some time to regain her composure, during which time Fleur's facial expression had grown considerably icier.

"I… Was it meant to be?" Hermione managed to croak finally.

"I zought… I zought zat was what zis was all about," Fleur said, her voice quiet, "Ze asking me to sit wiz you in a secluded part of ze library, giving me your scarf…"

"I… Y-You were cold!" Hermione stuttered.

"What about ze fact you always 'appened to 'ave my favourite foods?" Fleur asked, her brows knitting together in confusion, "You weren't trying to win me over?"

Hermione felt her stomach twist even more violently. Her head was buzzing with thoughts. Should she confess to the research? Or would that just make things worse? _Could_ things even get worse?

Another, more frantic line of thoughts was conflicting with those; _'Fleur thought I was trying to date her!'_ and _'Fleur ACCEPTED what she thought was a date with me!'_

Hermione shook her head, overwhelmed.

"I… I was interested in Veela," Hermione confessed, "A friend got me a book on Veela and I was seeing how much of it applied to part-Veela."

It felt good to get it off her chest, but she was light-headed with the sheer anxiety of confessing it to the pretty blonde in front of her. Still, if she were going to have a shot at continuing this unexpected date, then she had to come clean.

"You _what?!"_ Fleur snapped, her voice raising.

Hermione became aware of people in the tea house turning to look at their table. Her stomach felt like it had dropped right out of her body. Was this a dream? A terrible, terrible dream?

"I…"

"So none of zis was because you were actually interested in getting to know me?" Fleur demanded, her eyes fiery now, "I was just some _research project_ to you?!"

"Fleur, I…" Hermione struggled to find the words, "I stopped it when I realised how amazing you are. I threw my findings away! I really like spending time with you… And now that I know you thought this was a date…"

"Your _findings?!_ " Fleur shrieked, "Unbelievable!"

"I threw them out!" Hermione repeated desperately. She could see everything she wanted right within her grasp, but slipping away before her eyes.

"You 'aven't been following Gabrielle around like zis, 'ave you?" Fleur asked, narrowing her eyes. She was so protective of her baby sister.

"No—no! Of course not!" Hermione spluttered, "I would never do that."

"Non, you would _never_ do zat," Fleur replied, her voice scathing, "You wouldn't use my sister for your own selfish gain, just _me._ "

"Fleur, it started like that… But I like you," Hermione tried to appeal to Fleur. She was terrified at what she was about to utter, considering she had been keeping it down so strongly until now, but it was now or never. "Fleur, when I started I thought you were just icy and mean. But now… You're so cute and intelligent and interesting and _wow_! I didn't think you could possibly be interested in me like this, but… I _do_ really want to take you on a date."

Fleur looked furious.

"What? Now you 'ave ze conclusion to your little experiment?!" Fleur hissed, "You _used_ me for research! Now you just want to use me again!"

"No!" Hermione pleaded.

Fleur picked up her glass of water and threw it in Hermione's face.

"Stay away from me and my sister," Fleur hissed as she stood up from the table. She rose to her full height, straightening her back and raising her head proudly. She turned on her heel and stormed out without another word.

Hermione was left sitting at the table, hair and face dripping, soaking in what a total disaster the outing had been.

The people at tables next door were murmuring amongst themselves. She was sure everyone now knew what she had done to Fleur—not to mention her sexuality.

_'Could this day get worse?'_ Hermione thought miserably to herself.

Amongst the murmuring, Hermione distinctly heard sniggering. She looked across the tea house and saw Pansy and Draco looking at her and laughing.

_'Yep, apparently it could…'_


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione stepped outside, the breeze chilling her due to her wet hair and face. She was in a state of shock.

She couldn't believe so many things could happen in the space of a few days.

She trudged slowly in the direction of the Three Broomsticks, knowing she would likely find Harry and Ron there.

_'Fleur thought we were on a date…'_

Hermione didn't notice any of the fellow students excitedly swishing past her, innocently enjoying the first Hogsmeade outing of the year.

_'I can't believe I told her about the research…'_

Hermione kicked a loose pebble on the cobbled streets. It did nothing to ease the anxiety and frustration within her.

She kept picturing the look on Fleur's face when she told her. Mostly outrage, of course. But Hermione had definitely seen hurt in her eyes. That was what really got her.

Hermione trudged into the Three Broomsticks. Sure enough, there was a shock of red hair and spiky black hair sitting by a window. Hermione listlessly walked over to them and sat down at a table.

"Hey—Who pissed in your butterbeer?" Ron asked, taking in the look on Hermione's face.

"Gross," Hermione replied darkly. She leaned on her arms on the table.

"Why are you all wet?" Harry asked, noticing Hermione's curls were dripping onto the table.

The doors of the Three Broomsticks burst open. Hermione silently hoped it would be Fleur so she could have another chance at explaining herself.

Unfortunately, Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson strutted in, smirking amongst themselves as they saw Hermione by the window.

"Hey Granger," Pansy called out, "Don't feel too bad about your date! After all, she still got you wet in the end!"

Malfoy cracked up, hi-fiving Pansy.

Hermione scowled, turning her gaze away from the Slytherins and their jeering.

"Hermione," Harry said cautiously, as if he were defusing a bomb, "Er… Did something happen?"

"Did the Slytherins do something to you?" Ron asked, cracking his knuckles, "Because I'm more than happy to go hex Malfoy for you."

"No…" Hermione replied morosely, looking down at the table, "Fleur did. Or, rather, I did something to her. Now she's mad at me."

"Fleur?" Ron asked, looking mystified, "Fleur Delacour? I thought she only sat beside you a couple of times at mealtimes."

"I've seen her a few times outside of that," Hermione admitted, her jaw tensing.

"Yeah? What does that have to do with Malfoy and Parkinson?" Harry asked, "Or how you got all wet… And what did they mean by 'date'?"

Hermione swallowed heavily. Here it was… She had only _just_ started working out her sexuality herself and now was about to announce it to her two closest friends. She braced herself for gasps and wide eyes.

"I'm gay," Hermione said quietly.

"Yeah… What does that have to do with how you got soaked in water?" Ron asked. He crinkled his nose, "It _is_ just water, right?"

"Yes, Ron," Hermione snapped waspishly, "You two don't have anything else to say about the fact I like girls?"

"Should we?" Harry asked, furrowing his brows. He looked like he was trying to work out what Hermione was getting at.

Hermione sighed. Neither of them really seemed to care. They hadn't so much as batted an eyelid at her news.

"Fleur threw the water at me," Hermione admitted, "She… She thought we were on a date until I told her otherwise."

"What?!" Ron yelped. Hermione snapped at him to keep his voice down.

"Er, sorry," Ron muttered, lowering his voice, "Just… Fleur bloody Delacour! Are you mental?! Why would you tell her it _wasn't_ a date? Does she still want a date? I could step in if you aren't keen… I mean it is the decent thing to do…"

"Oh stop it," Hermione interrupted Ron before he could start drooling over the blonde again, "I didn't realise it was. I ended up getting close to her because I was testing theories about Veela and part-Veela. She ended up being a little drawn in because I tested a few theories about things Veela like. She thought I was drawing her in because I was trying to date her…"

"Oh, Hermione," Harry groaned, slapping a hand on his forehead and dragging it down his face, "How many times do Ron, Ginny and I have to tell you… _Nobody_ wants to be a part of one of your research projects! Let alone without knowing they were!"

"Yes, well, I see that now," Hermione replied tersely, looking down at the table.

"I can't bloody believe this," Ron commented, shaking his head, "What happened on the date then?"

"Well, she mentioned that she had broken things off with Julie because of things between us and our date… I kind of… I didn't know it was a date! So I told her I didn't realise that was what she thought… Then I came clean about all the research," Hermione told the boys miserably.

"You _what?!_ " Ron exclaimed.

"Shush!" Hermione hissed at Ron. His voice carried so easily. She supposed it hardly mattered. Enough people had heard the altercation between her and Fleur at Madam Puddifoot's.

"I can't believe you bloody told her," Ron said, shaking his head, "You have to be the only person in the world that fancies women who would intentionally bomb a date with Fleur Delacour."

"I had to be honest with her!" Hermione retorted.

"Maybe it isn't as bad as it seems," Harry interrupted diplomatically.

"She yelled at me to stay away from her and her sister," Hermione said in a deadpan tone, "And threw water over me. Plus, a heap of people saw the entire thing. Everyone will know by the end of the day."

Harry inhaled through gritted teeth, cringing on Hermione's behalf.

"Not great," Harry admitted, "But the party to celebrate the First Task is tonight. I'm sure plenty will happen there that will make everyone forget all about it."

"That's a good point," Ron agreed, "Fred and George said they have a bunch of surprises up their sleeves for the evening. Plus, it sounds like most of the Fourth Years and upwards are going to be there!"

"No offense, but I'm hardly in the mood to go to a party," Hermione scowled, noticing from afar that Pansy and Malfoy were laughing at her again.

"I think it's just what you need," Ron insisted, "What are you gonna do otherwise? Sit in the library and mope over how badly you screwed things up with Fleur?"

Ron had her there. That was _exactly_ what she would probably do.

"Fine."

* * *

Hermione, as depressed as she was, decided she should at least put a slight effort into her appearance for a party that was partly celebrating her best friend.

She had showered, brushed her hair and donned a fresh outfit. She wore tight black jeans, black Converse, a white tee and a washed out blue denim jacket. Her curls were a little more tamed than usual, framing her face nicely. She forced a smile at her reflection.

_'Almost as if I didn't screw up everything mere hours ago,'_ Hermione thought to herself sourly.

Still, maybe she could forget about it for a few hours. If she knew Fred and George, they were likely to pack the party full of distractions.

Hermione headed down to the common room, where Ron was berating Ginny about how tight her skirt was.

"You'll make people look at… Your… Body!" Ron said awkwardly, the tips of his ears red.

"Good, I hope they do," Ginny shrugged.

"You're only bloody fourteen!" Ron spluttered.

"And you're not my mum," Ginny replied, "Oh, Hermione is here. Great, let's go."

Ron frowned, conceding the argument, but obviously not happy about it.

Ginny was wearing a tight denim skirt and strappy top. Harry and Ron were dressed almost identically, in plain blue jeans and plain tees.

Hermione was already feeling a little more like herself, a slight Weasley tiff making her feel right at home.

The small group headed off, meeting Luna Lovegood in the hallway before heading off to the Room of Requirement.

Fred and George had sent out clear instructions to all the interested students of how to get there and how to get in.

It was simple enough, and soon the group were in.

Despite being relatively early in the evening, the large room was already quite crowded. It was large space, with tables laden in snacks and drinks as well as a space to dance. Couches and chairs were dotted around the edges of the room.

There were Triwizard decorations haphazardly around the room. Dark black and scarlet posters with Durmstrang's crest and Krum's face on them. Silver posters accented in powder blue that had Fleur's pretty face beaming out of them. Scarlet and gold posters with Harry's face and the Gryffindor lion on them. Finally, black and yellow posters with a Hufflepuff badger and Cedric's face on them.

Hermione tried not to look at the ones with Fleur on them, smiling warmly out at the party-goers.

There were large speakers pumping out a Weird Sisters record and the room was buzzing with excitement and conversation. Hermione could already see a Ravenclaw girl passionately kissing a Durmstrang boy in one corner of the room.

Fred and George appeared before the small group.

"Baby bro and baby sis!" Fred grinned, ruffling Ron and Ginny's hair with each hand.

"Hey!" Ron and Ginny protested.

"Isn't it a bit past your bedtime?" George teased, a playful smile on his face.

"Lay off," Ron groaned, miffed at the teasing of his older brothers.

"We're just messing with you," Fred said with a wink.

"Gotta keep you humble," George concurred, "Help yourself to the tables. We have everything you could possibly want: pizza, roast beef… Heck, even salmon blinis for the foreign lot."

"Pus whatever you could possibly want to drink," Fred added coyly, "Butterbeer, pumpkin juice… Firewhisky, Chudley Ale, wine…"

"Right, so not even trying to play by the rules," Hermione replied flatly.

The twins chuckled.

"Oh, Hermione," George laughed, "What about this party made you think it was school-approved in the first place? Why don't you loosen up for once?"

Hermione frowned, but the twins were soon gone, off to greet some more new arrivals.

Ron led the group over to a table, predictably grabbing some of the food on offer. Harry scanned the room, looking for Gryffindors or other friendly faces.

"So, Hermione," Ginny said, pulling Hermione slightly to one side, "We, ah… Heard what happened earlier today."

Hermione grimaced.

"No offense, but the whole point of me coming out tonight was to take my mind off that," Hermione replied, gritting her teeth.

"Hermione," Luna said dreamily, "We all have misunderstandings… We all like girls…"

"Do we?" Ginny interrupted, looking at Luna curiously.

"But people get over misunderstandings," Luna continued, "She is upset for now but she will not be upset forever."

"I hope you're right," Hermione replied.

The party picked up a little after that. More Gryffindors arrived and Hermione found herself, begrudgingly, having an okay time. Seamus Finnegan quickly got himself too drunk, accidentally setting his own sleeve on fire somehow.

Hermione had stuck to butterbeer, given its almost non-existent alcohol content. Her friends, however, had tried a number of different drinks. It was their first party and they were all excited.

Ginny, turning out to be quite a party girl, dragged a reluctant Harry, Ron and Hermione to the dance-floor later in the night. Hermione, despite herself, found herself smiling at the silly dance moves of her friends and bopping along a little bit herself. She didn't even mind that the party was breaking school rules.

The Room of Requirement was bursting with students now. The other schools were all in attendance and most of Hogwarts from Fourth Year upwards had shown up for the occasion. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits.

Hermione ducked off the dancefloor to get herself another chilled butterbeer. Ginny followed her.

"So, feeling better?" Ginny asked.

"A little," Hermione admitted, selecting a bottle and opening it, "I'm still not thrilled the whole school heard about it all, though."

"Hey, you heard Luna—We all have misunderstandings with people," Ginny replied, "And _apparently_ we _all_ like girls."

Ginny shot a look at Luna on the dancefloor, still dancing with Harry and Ron. Hermione crossed her arms, a knowing smile on her face.

"You seem a little curious about Luna's sexuality," Hermione surmised.

Ginny blushed a little.

"Er, maybe a little," Ginny said dismissively, "We've just never really talked about it before!"

"No time like the present?" Hermione suggested, arching an eyebrow.

Ginny looked back at Luna, then back at Hermione. She nodded vaguely before walking back to the dance-floor to join the others. Hermione watched her, amused, wondering what would transpire between Luna and Ginny.

"Granger," a snarky voice sounded in Hermione's ear, "Surprised to see you out and about after your disastrous date."

Hermione scowled, turning to see Pansy Parkinson nursing a red wine beside her. The initial embarrassment of the tea house debacle had faded a little, in part due to the realisation that more people than her seemed to be working out their sexuality too. It suddenly didn't seem like a big deal anymore. Especially considering Ron and Harry hadn't even been fazed by it.

"What do you want, Parkinson?" Hermione sighed, "I don't care that people know I like girls."

Pansy scoffed.

"Who doesn't?" Pansy sneered, "That isn't what made it so entertaining."

"Seriously?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening slightly.

Merlin, just how many people at Hogwarts weren't straight?!

"You struck out so fantastically, _so_ publicly, with the hottest girl to grace these halls," Pansy cackled, "Not only that—you ran a goddamn _research project_ on her?!"

Hermione scowled. Her night was starting to take a turn, it seemed.

"Yeah, well, we all make mistakes," Hermione growled. She hardly needed Pansy rubbing salt in her wounds.

"It seems your one has pushed her to move on," Pansy sneered, nodding across the room, "She's off cosying up to other French girls while you still can't even work out your feelings."

Through the crowd, Hermione could see Fleur had arrived in a cluster of Beauxbatons girls. She was standing close beside Julie, their pinkies interlinked.

_It does seem like they've made up_ , Hermione thought sourly to herself.

"Do you want something, Parkinson?" Hermione asked waspishly, "Or are you just jealous?"

Pansy had a naturally smug looking face, but right now it was positively glowing. She had facial features that really didn't suit how truly dreadful she was—a cute little nose and big brown eyes. She had short chin-length black hair that stylishly fell around her face. Her lips were painted with blood red lipstick. If she wasn't such a terrible person, she could almost be considered attractive.

However, she frowned at Hermione's comment.

"I don't date animals," Pansy sniffed, turning her face away from Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You just said she was the hottest girl to grace these halls," Hermione pointed out.

Pansy glared at her.

"Just because I have _standards_ , doesn't mean I'm blind," Pansy glared. Her upper hand in the conversation seemed to be slipping.

"Sounds like you're the one that can't work out their own feelings," Hermione shot back, smirking, "Must be so hard being a bigot."

"H-hey," Pansy spluttered, "You're the one that made a fool of yourself today!"

Hermione shrugged, walking away from the Slytherin girl. She felt a weight off her shoulders. Going to the party had been a good idea. As painful as it was to see Fleur with her friends, it had made her feel slightly better about her embarrassing display in Madam Puddifoot's.

She was on her way back to her friends when they rushed over to her first.

"Fred and George just told us the professors have found out about the party," Ron informed Hermione, "We should get out now before they bust everyone."

Hermione's eyes drifted over to the Beauxbatons girls on the other side of the room. Fleur was obliviously talking with her friends, Julie close beside her.

Hermione wanted to warn her, but she couldn't help but remember Fleur's angry request to stay away from her and Gabrielle.

Hermione bit her lip, turning to her friends. She nodded.

They were glad of the heads up from Fred and George, as they could just start to hear panic break out as they were slipping out of the room.

Around the very first corner, Harry halted and spread out his arms to stop the others from proceeding.

"Filch!" Harry hissed.

The group took off at pace in the opposite direction, heading down a long hallway and ducking around a corner.

"Don't worry," Harry grinned, producing the Marauder's Map from his pocket.

"Thank Merlin," Ron sighed with relief.

Harry unfolded it and activated it. Luna and Ginny peered over the map.

"What the?!" Ginny yelped, "Why are there so many professors out over a tiny little party?!"

"We could go to the Astronomy Tower?" Ron suggested, stabbing at the map with a finger, "Nobody in the way of that. Then we just hide out til it all blows over!"

With no other options presenting themselves, and no Invisibility Cloak, the group agreed.

* * *

Hermione leaned against the stone wall in the Astronomy Tower, gazing up at the stars.

_'This would be a perfect place to take a girl on a date,'_ Hermione thought idly, before frowning, _'If only I'd realised that Fleur thought we were going on a date earlier.'_

"You okay, 'Mione?" Ron asked, passing her a bottle of wine.

Harry, Ron, Luna, Ginny and Hermione had sat down in the Astronomy Tower to wait out the post-party fallout. Harry had the Marauder's Map splayed out on the ground between them, so they could watch the chaos of Professors catching students out from afar. Ginny, it turned out, had swiped a bottle of red wine on her way out of the party. They were passing it around the circle while they waited.

Hermione, who had avoided taking a sip until now, took a deep drink from the bottle.

Ron grinned at her, his lips and teeth stained by the red wine.

"It's been a hell of a week," Hermione said with a sigh.

"That it has…" Ron replied, looking up at the stars, "Harry fought a dragon, you went on a date with Fleur Delacour… Blimey. Sounds like a weird dream I would have."

"I wish I'd known it was a bloody date," Hermione cursed, her tongue loosened by the wine. It tasted bitter. She'd only ever tried a sip of wine before from her father's glass at home.

"It wouldn't have changed the fact that you'd researched her, 'Mione," Harry said cautiously. Hermione passed the bottle to the raven-haired boy.

He swigged from the bottle.

"I _thought_ she was this horribly icy mean girl!" Hermione complained, "But she's actually so sweet, guys. You should see her with her baby sister! She is so adorable and protective. Not to mention her performance in the First Task! So complex, so amazing! She's beauty, brains _and_ charm."

Ginny giggled, taking the bottle of wine from Harry.

"You have it bad, Hermione," Ginny replied.

"Hermione, we are merely a month into the school year," Luna said dreamily, "You have plenty of time to make things right again."

"You're right," Hermione said, perking up, "You make a good point, Luna!"

"Don't I always?" Luna replied, crinkling her brow. The group giggled.

"Speaking of people having it bad for a girl," Ginny said, changing the subject, "Don't think I didn't notice how much you've been staring at Cho Chang, Harry!"

"What!" Ron exclaimed, "That Ravenclaw girl?"

Harry blushed.

* * *

The next morning, most of the Hogwarts student population seemed to be suffering from hangovers.

Hermione took the opportunity to go to the library, relishing that it was even more empty than usual.

When she had got up, her dormitory was full of dozing girls and people rushing to throw up in the bathrooms. But it was a relief. Everyone was so fixated with their hangovers and the events of the party the previous night that nobody was talking about her incident at Madam Puddifoot's. Not even Lavender or Parvati, the House gossips, had anything to say.

When not complaining about their hangovers, they had been excitedly gossiping over who had hooked up with who the previous night.

Hermione, for once, had smiled at their gossiping ways, before heading out for the day.

Now, Hermione was running her fingertips along the spines of the books. There was still months until the Second Task, but she was eager to help Harry figure out the mystery of the egg. They had opened it late the previous night, when they had finally got back from the Astronomy Tower to the Gryffindor Common Room.

The Common Room had filled up with a horrific screaming, screeching noise. They'd all had to cover their ears and beg Harry to close it again.

It was beyond curious.

Hermione was sure that there was an answer _somewhere_ in the library. Assuming they hadn't removed all the useful books like they had with the dragons.

Hermione roamed idly down another aisle, inhaling the smell of books. It was strange, she was sure, but she loved the smell of books. All that knowledge, all that hidden information, all the imagination and facts of the world hidden away.

Hermione turned down another aisle, halting in her steps.

Ahead of her was a small silvery-blonde girl.

"Gabrielle?" Hermione asked.

The small girl turned around, her face lighting up as she saw Hermione.

"'Ermione!" Gabrielle squealed, running over to hug Hermione.

Hermione felt a little awkward, worried that Fleur would emerge from behind a bookshelf at any moment. It would likely make her even angrier at Hermione, thwarting any chance at fixing things.

"Are you here alone?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Gabrielle released Hermione from the tight hug, looking up at her and nodding energetically.

"Oui," Gabrielle replied, "Everyone in ze Beauxbatons felt sick or 'ad a sore 'ead zis morning. It was _so boring._ I wanted to read more princess books!"

"So you took yourself to the library?" Hermione asked, surprised.

Gabrielle nodded. A child after her own heart.

"I 'ave already found two books I really want to read," Gabrielle informed Hermione happily.

"Does anyone know you are here?" Hermione asked, a little concerned.

Gabrielle shook her head no.

"If I 'ad told zem, zey wouldn't 'ave let me come 'ere on my own," Gabrielle said, pouting a little.

She really was an adorable child.

"Oookay," Hermione said, sighing, "Well, lets get you back to the Carriage before people start to worry about you."

"But not wizzout ze books?" Gabrielle asked, her eyes pleading.

Hermione smiled warmly.

"Of course not," Hermione grinned, "I'm not a monster."

Gabrielle giggled. Hermione helped her put the books in her backpack and sling it back on her back.

Hermione led the small girl out of the library.

"It can get a little scary walking around zis school alone," Gabrielle admitted, "Ze staircases move!"

"Yes, they can do that," Hermione replied with a smile, "You have to time it right. There are also some trick steps too. You know, you can find out all about it in a book called _Hogwarts: A History_."

"You're so nice, 'Ermione," Gabrielle smiled, pulling at the straps of her backpack, "What 'appened between you and Fleur? She said she doesn't want us talking to you anymore."

"I made a mistake," Hermione said, her mood falling, "Quite a bad mistake. I hurt your sister and broke her trust. But believe me when I say I didn't mean to. I'd do anything to make it up to her."

Gabrielle's little face scrunched up as she considered Hermione's words.

"Like ze time I broke into Fleur's room and read 'er journal?" Gabrielle asked, looking up at Hermione innocently.

"Something like that," Hermione sighed, "So now she doesn't trust if I was doing things because I actually liked her or because of… That."

"Fleur doesn't trust people easily," Gabrielle informed Hermione as they reached the Entrance Hall.

Hermione recalled the strange moment when Fleur had asked her not to treat her badly. It suddenly made more sense now she knew that the blonde had thought they were beginning to go on dates.

Their footsteps echoed in the Entrance Hall, eerie for this time of the morning. Peeking in the open doors of the Great Hall, Hermione could see that there was only a handful of students in there eating breakfast, all of them First and Second Years.

Gabrielle dallied a little, peeking in the door too. Hermione put her hand on Gabrielle's shoulder.

"Come on," Hermione encouraged with a smile, "We don't want people noticing you're gone and getting a big fright."

"When will we be able to 'ang out again, 'Ermione?" Gabrielle asked, letting Hermione lead her away from the Great Hall and out the front doors of Hogwarts.

Hermione frowned.

"When I find out a way to make it up to your sister," Hermione replied, "I miss hanging out with you guys too."

"I don't care what you did," Gabrielle told Hermione petulantly, "I forgive you, 'Ermione."

Hermione smiled slightly.

"I appreciate it, Gabrielle," Hermione said, inwardly relieved that at least _one_ Delacour was willing to look past her transgressions, "Say… Did Fleur get in any trouble last night?"

Hermione had been worried that Fleur had been caught by professors like so many of the students leaving the party had been. Her and her group of friends had been wearing their high heels as per usual, which surely would have made it harder to get away in a rush.

Gabrielle smiled widely.

"Non! Fleur, Julie and Rochelle 'id out in zis cool 'idden tunnel be'ind a tapestry until it was clear for zem to 'ead back," Gabrielle informed Hermione, "'Ow crazy is zat! I want to read _'Ogwarts: A 'Istory_ and find out about some cool 'idden tunnels and shortcuts!"

Hermione smiled widely, knowing that she was the one that had shown Fleur where that exact hidden tunnel was, the time that Fleur's thrall had been out of control. At least she had helped Fleur out in _some_ way, even if it was indirectly.

She reached the Carriage with Gabrielle, turning to the small girl.

"Okay, here we are," Hermione said, "You'd better head on in."

"Thanks, 'Ermione," Gabrielle said brightly, hugging Hermione tightly, "I can't wait for you and Fleur to make up."

"Me neither, Gabrielle," Hermione said, smiling slightly.


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione saw Fleur a couple of times after the disastrous week that had ended their budding friendship. Or budding relationship, if Hermione reminded herself of the fact Fleur had happily gone on a date with her.

To her relief, she hadn't copped much teasing for her sexuality being out in the open. As Ginny, Luna and (weirdly) Pansy had confirmed, everyone had taken a bit of a 'who doesn't?' mentality.

Instead, she just faced insistent mocking from the Slytherins about screwing up her date with Fleur so royally.

Jeering in hallways, snarky comments in classes—the usual Slytherin crap.

But that was fine. They were also mocking Harry about his participation in the Triwizard Tournament, Luna in general for being odd, and Ron for being friends with Harry again. It would be weirder if they _weren't_ mocking Hermione about something.

Plus, now the sting of the failure had worn off a bit, Hermione didn't care so much about being reminded of the incident at Madam Puddifoot's. She was far more focussed on helping Harry solve the egg puzzle.

That, and trying to find a way to apologise to Fleur. A task that was proving incredibly difficult.

Fleur was almost _always_ surrounded by a flock of intimidatingly pretty Beauxbatons girls. She was frequently in a group before, of course. But now it was virtually _impossible_ to get Fleur on her own.

Hermione had mentally scripted and re-scripted her apology speech in her mind. She thought about it a lot. How exactly she could explain herself to Fleur. Explain how she hadn't thought things through properly. That she was sorry for betraying Fleur's trust. That she missed seeing the softer side of Fleur.

Hermione had only come close to getting Fleur on her own very few times. Once was when she saw Fleur out on a run while her, Harry and Ron were on their way to visit Hagrid in his Hut.

Hermione had stopped in her tracks, causing the boys to walk right into her back.

Fleur had been running in the setting sun of the day, her long platinum-blonde hair in a high ponytail bouncing behind her. She was dressed in the same outfit she had worn to face the dragon. Hermione had felt a blush colour her cheeks as she took in just how _hot_ the Champion looked.

It was cruel in a way. Ever since she had properly processed that she had a crush on Fleur, she couldn't help but notice how truly attractive the blonde was.

Fleur was running laps of the Black Lake. Her running path was taking her right past the trio. But as Hermione stepped forward, hoping to speak to her, Fleur just sped up her pace and sprinted off.

The next time Hermione saw Fleur was when the blonde was leaving Charms. Hermione and her fellow Charms classmates were waiting impatiently outside the classroom door for their class when the door opened. Evidently, Fleur had stayed behind after her class to talk to Professor Flitwick, as she was on her own.

Hermione had got her hopes up for a chance to at least say hi. Unfortunately, in one fell swoop—Fleur turned down a date from a Gryffindor boy, swatted a wayward hand from a Durmstrang boy and frostily pushed past Hermione without even acknowledging her.

Hermione moped her way into Charms, taking a seat in the back corner of the room beside Ron. Usually she liked sitting closer to the front so she could properly get engaged in the lessons. But today she aimlessly flipped her book open before leaning her head on her hand.

"That was brutal out there with Fleur," Ron whispered to her, "You okay, mate?"

Hermione ignored Ron, staring blankly at the blackboard behind Professor Flitwick.

She wished she still had that Time Turner and could go back in time and tell her past self that everything she was thinking was way off. That she was developing a crush on Fleur. That the research project was a mistake. That doing it would hurt Fleur and break her trust.

She exhaled heavily.

Professor Flitwick was talking now but Hermione was hardly hearing a thing.

She was thinking back on studying in the library with Fleur. How elegant she looked when scrawling down notes. How much her face lit up when she truly relaxed around people.

_'If only I'd realised my stupid feelings instead of being distracted with researching Veela,'_ Hermione thought morosely to herself. She'd really out-Hermioned herself on this one.

Ron went to copy her notes, shooting her an incredulous look when he saw she had yet to write anything down in the class.

"Guess I'll just bloody write the notes for us all, then," Ron muttered under his breath, hurriedly scratching _something_ down. Flitwick had indicated they would have an essay on the lesson in the near future.

Hermione tried to shake herself out of it.

She re-inked her quill, poising it above her parchment.

She prided herself on her academic prowess. It seemed embarrassingly trivial to mess up her grades over something as trivial as a crush.

She rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand, trying to reel in her wayward thoughts and focus on the class. Flitwick was talking about charms that could put small animals into a kind of stupor.

_'Remember that fantastic spell Fleur did to put the dragon to sleep? So complex, so elegant… Such an intelligent solution to the problem. She cast it with such precision too,'_ Hermione found herself thinking, gazing out the window and sighing.

She shook her head, realising she was already thinking about the blonde again. She needed to get over it. She was hardly likely to see anything other than Fleur's cold and dismissive side for a long while.

The rest of the lesson was difficult. Hermione really struggled to concentrate and keep her mind on the class.

By the time they left and began to head off to Potions, Ron was in total disbelief. He glanced from Harry to Hermione, gaping.

"Harry, can you bloody believe this?!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry shrugged.

"She's got a lot on her mind," Harry commented, casting a wistful look at Cho and Cedric walking through the hallways hand in hand.

Ron shook his head.

"Nope, no way," Ron said firmly, "This is not the Hermione we've known since First Year. As _if_ you're going to let your grades go to crap because of a crush on a girl!"

"You're just worried you won't have my notes to copy off," Hermione snorted darkly.

Ron made a small noise of outrage, but he seemed a little called out by the comment.

As the trio made their way into Potions and sat down at a table, Ron regrouped his efforts.

"Look – Harry would be backing me up if he wasn't hung up on on bloody Cho Chang," Ron replied sulkily.

"Mate!" Harry replied, looking aghast, "I… I am not!"

"Maybe if you spent less time speculating on who your friends are hung up on, you would have enough time to write up your own class notes," Hermione told Ron with a wry smile.

Ron looked outraged.

"Can't a guy just be concerned for his friends?" Ron said, "Now—are you two gonna take notes in this class or not?"

While having their mildly heated conversation, the trio had failed to notice that everyone else had filtered into the class and taken their seats. They had also failed to notice a lank-haired man standing right behind them as they continued bickering.

"I can't be relied on to take notes for all of us!" Ron continued, "Especially not in Potions, you know what a slippery git Snape can be."

Harry and Hermione didn't reply, their eyes finally drifting to behind Ron's head.

Ron paled a little.

"He's behind me… Isn't he?" Ron asked, his voice lowering.

Harry and Hermione nodded.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape said in a low voice, "And I'm going to be splitting you three up to stop this pitiful bickering. Potter, go sit by Malfoy; Weasley, go sit by Bullstrode; Parkinson, come over here and sit by Granger."

Hermione inwardly groaned. Harry and Ron grumbled as they slung their backpacks and slouched to their new seats, both looking thoroughly put out.

Hermione's spirits fell further as Pansy strutted over to the newly vacated seat beside her. Her raven-hair was looking glossy and impeccable. She slid onto the seat beside Hermione, her short skirt riding up to show her tanned thighs.

Hermione scowled and turned her attentions back to her potions kit and textbook.

Snape was back at the front of the classroom, outlining the potion they would be brewing during the lesson. Hermione tried her best to pay attention to what he was saying.

Thankfully, he wrote up most of the notes required on the blackboard behind himself before setting them to actually making the potion.

Hermione copied them down blindly before gritting her teeth and turning to Pansy.

"You seem distracted," Pansy sneered, smiling broadly.

"My best friend has been mysteriously entered in a competition where people have died in the past," Hermione replied acidly, "Of course I'm distracted."

Pansy smirked, picking the relevant ingredients out of her potions kit and laying them out neatly on the table in front of them.

"Of course," Pansy murmured sarcastically, "Totally unrelated to the Veela having nothing to do with you at all…"

Hermione scowled deeper, beyond irritated with the Slytherin already. They were barely ten minutes into the class and she already wanted to throttle her with her silver and emerald tie.

"You seem to notice Fleur's interactions with others quite a lot," Hermione shot back, "Anyone would say you've got _quite_ the fascination with her. What would your Pureblood Prince say about you crushing on someone with Magical Creature blood?"

She nodded across the aisle to Malfoy, who was doing his best to wind up Harry. Pansy and Malfoy were extremely close. Hermione knew that Pansy hated getting off-side with the blonde prat.

Pansy blushed deeply, frowning.

"I don't have a bloody _crush!"_ Pansy hissed, lowering her voice.

Hermione shook her head, flipping her textbook to the appropriate page.

"I think it's you that has more to work out than me," Hermione murmured triumphantly, delighting in how Pansy's face darkened further. She threw the first three ingredients into the cauldron forcefully.

"Yeah? Well, Draco would be pleasantly surprised by you running research on her like a lab rat," Pansy shot back under her breath, "Anyone would say you belong in Slytherin, Granger."

Pansy whipped her wand at the mixture in the cauldron violently. She threw the next ingredients in before beginning to chop up some roots with considerable aggression.

"If anyone belongs in Slytherin, it's _you_ ," Hermione growled, flinging some powder into the cauldron.

The mixture ignited into emerald flames which were ignored by both girls. They were too busy glaring at each other and trading barbs.

"Proud of it," Pansy smirked, "Hmm, maybe House Slytherin can pick up where your research left off? We do so love playing with non-Purebloods."

"You leave Fleur and Gabrielle alone!" Hermione snapped, shoving Pansy.

Pansy looked a little shocked. But then her eyes narrowed and her jaw tensed.

Pansy shoved Hermione back, harder.

Hermione, almost falling, regained her balance. She lurched forward, pushing Pansy with as much force as she could.

Pansy, losing her footing, threw out her arms to try and catch her balance. One of her flailing arms knocked the cauldron, causing it to topple and spill its flaming contents right over Snape, who happened to be walking over to their table.

Snape looked irate as his black robes caught fire with the emerald flames. Muttering a quick spell, he put out the flames, although his robes were tattered where the flame had burnt them. Hermione could see one long, extremely pale (and strangely hairless) leg through the holes burnt in his robes.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor," Snape seethed, "Plus, detention."

Pansy looked momentarily smug as she pulled herself up from the floor.

"Both of you," Snape finished, wiping the triumphant smile off Pansy's face.

"You'll be sorry for this, Granger," Pansy hissed.

* * *

Hermione's mood was at an all time low as she made her way into the Great Hall for lunch that day. Ron was looking at her like she was insane.

"Not paying attention in Charms… Getting into a fist fight with Parkinson in Potions… A detention tonight?!" Ron gaped at Hermione, "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?!"

"It was _not_ a fist fight, Ronald," Hermione replied tersely, "It was a disagreement."

"A disagreement that burned Snape's robes off," Harry interjected, "I don't think even _I've_ made him look that mad before!"

Hermione set her jaw, deciding not to engage with her two best friends. It would only darken her mood further. She sat down at the Gryffindor table beside Ginny, her stomach twisting further as she noticed Fleur gliding into the Great Hall amongst her Beauxbatons friends. Hermione was at least a little cheered by Gabrielle, walking beside them. Gabrielle shot Hermione a friendly smile across the hall.

Fleur looked so painfully beautiful. Her long legs stretched out from her short powder blue skirt as her high heels clacked on the stone floors. Her long white-blonde hair fanned out behind her. Today it was looking more silvery than usual.

Actually, her hair almost looked as if it was positively glowing.

"What's wrong with the guys?" Ginny nudged Hermione.

Hermione furrowed her brow as she looked around. All the males at the table looked thoroughly uncomfortable, adjusting their robes around themselves awkwardly and their eyes looking glazed. Harry seemed the least affected, but even he had a light blush at his cheeks.

It reminded Hermione of when she had run that experiment that had made Fleur's thrall get out of control…

"Sweet Circe, no…" Hermione looked back up to Fleur.

Her confident stride had faltered. She seemed to have noticed that the usual gazes her way were different.

"Oi! Delacours!" Crabbe called out, standing up at the Slytherin table. He had a hungry look in his eye.

Another Slytherin wolf-whistled, which seemed to set others off. Suddenly the Great Hall was full of loud catcalls and lewd comments directed at Fleur and, horrifically, some at her sister.

Fleur was rooted to the spot, looking alarmed. Her friends looked confused, looking at the utterly ridiculous way that the males in the Hall were acting.

Hermione was relieved that at least the all boys at the Gryffindor table were remaining seated and quiet, enthralled but not abusive.

Some students were walking in behind the Beaxbatons girls. A large boy among them in a Slytherin uniform came up behind Gabrielle quickly, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her up.

This seemed to snap Fleur out of her frozen alarm. Within seconds she had drawn her wand and hexed the boy. The Slytherin dropped Gabrielle and fell to the floor, clutching at his face. Fleur, first checking her little sister was okay, stepped over to the Slytherin and began kicking him in the stomach, swearing in French.

Professors stepped in then, finally noticing the furore in the Great Hall. Madam Hooch pulled Fleur off the Slytherin boy and McGonagall took Gabrielle by the shoulder. Snape, Flitwick and Hagrid soon joined them, assessing the Slytherin boy on the ground and muttering amongst themselves.

Hooch and McGonagall steered Gabrielle and Fleur rapidly out of the room, finally causing the effects of their amped up thralls to subside.

Hermione wanted desperately to follow Gabrielle and Fleur out of the Great Hall and check that they were okay. But she was sure Fleur would blame her for their thralls being supercharged like that. Hooch and McGonagall would likely bar her from intervening anyway.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, looking around the Hall.

_'How could this have happened?'_ Hermione thought to herself, _'There are no resources on Veela in Hogwarts except for the book I disposed of. How would anyone know how to aggravate a Veela's thrall like that? And why would they do that to the Delacours?'_

Hermione could only see a sea of confused faces amongst her fellow students. It seemed everyone was just as surprised and reeling from the dramatic events that had just unfolded.

"Bloody reckless for them to throw their thralls around like that," Ginny muttered, finally returning to her meal. She stabbed a piece of pasta with a fork.

"They couldn't control it," Hermione replied waspishly, watching as Hagrid picked up the injured Slytherin and carried him out of the Hall. To the Hospital Wing no doubt.

Flitwick and Snape exited the Hall also, looking like they were heading in the direction that Hooch, McGonagall and the Delacours had gone. Hermione just hoped that they wouldn't get the blame for what had just happened to them.

* * *

It was late when Hermione made her way to detention. She'd tried to study in the library after dinner, but had just ended up reading the same sentences again and again.

She looked at the slip that had been delivered to her in her final class of the day.

_Dungeon 2. Detention. 7pm._

Hermione sighed, looking up at the dark wooden door to Dungeon 2. It was a dark polished wood with a large black iron circle handle. It looked quite ominous set in the cold stone of the walls.

Hermione set her mouth into a determined line. She'd just grin and bear it. The detention would be over before she knew it.

Hermione pulled open the heavy door, walking into the dungeon. She was five minutes early so was expecting the room to be empty.

Her heart felt like it leapt into her throat as she instead opened the door to a familiar platinum blonde.

Fleur was standing in the dungeon, her arms wrapped around herself and shivering. Her impassive face quickly turned into a scowl as she registered Hermione.

"Er, what… What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, her mouth suddenly dry.

Fleur's face turned from annoyed to furious.

"Are you serious?!" Fleur replied acidly, "Don't zink I don't know it was you 'oo played wiz my thrall again!"

"You got put in detention for your thrall?" Hermione gaped at the pretty blonde.

Fleur shook her head, still angry.

"For assaulting anozzer student," Fleur hissed, "One 'oo grabbed my sister."

"That's messed up," Hermione commented.

Fleur shook her head.

"Don't play innocent."

"Fleur—"

The door opened again and Snape entered. Fleur set her face to a careful neutral again before turning her back on Hermione.

Snape ignored both of them, leaning against the blackboard in the dungeon and crossing his arms.

The door opened again and a Durmstrang boy entered, followed by Luna Lovegood.

The dirty-blonde haired Ravenclaw came and stood beside Hermione. She was wearing large radish earrings that were swinging wildly as she moved.

"Luna? What did you get detention for?" Hermione asked, her eyes widening slightly.

"Wandering the castle last night," Luna shrugged nonchalantly, "After hours."

Hermione smiled slightly and shook her head, amused at the dreamy blonde.

The door opened again and Pansy Parkinson walked in, followed by Ravenclaw boy and another Durmstrang boy.

Pansy looked around the room, her eyes resting on Fleur for a moment before flicking back to Hermione. She smirked.

Hermione tried not to let herself get riled.

Undeterred, Pansy strutted over and stood on Hermione's other side.

"Well, well, well," Pansy smirked, "If it isn't Granger and Looney Lovegood."

Luna didn't seem in any way bothered by the nickname, continuing to half-smile dreamily. Hermione scowled at the Slytherin.

"Don't call her that," Hermione replied irritably.

Pansy didn't respond, grinning broadly.

Snape pushed himself off the blackboard stepping forward. His hair looked even greasier than usual, hanging limply around his pallid face. He looked around the room with distaste.

"I'm not going to give you the satisfaction of referring to the petty acts that landed you all here," Snape intoned nasally, "The facts are, you're in detention. For the next two hours, you're going to re-organise the Potions storeroom. Clearing up mess, organising ingredients, scouring cauldrons."

"Easy," Pansy muttered smugly under her breath.

"And to ensure you don't get into any more trouble," Snape added, a horrible sneer overtaking his features, "I'll be taking all your wands from now until the end of detention."

"Vat?!" the Durmstrang boy exclaimed, outraged, "How are we supposed to do the tasks vithout magic?!"

"The old fashioned way," Snape replied, his lip curling as he smiled, "Perhaps ask our resident Muggle-born, Granger, for help if you're unsure?"

Hermione shot a look at Pansy. The Slytherin looked positively irate.

At least that was one upside.

"Hand me your wands and I'll take you to the storeroom," Snape instructed silkily.

He produced a black cloth bag, flicking it open and holding it in front of himself.

Fleur stepped forward first, tossing her wand in the bag irritably before stepping to the door. The two Durmstrang boys and Ravenclaw boy followed suit. Pansy, Luna, and then finally Hermione, did the same.

As soon as Hermione had dropped her wand into the bag, Snape pulled the drawstrings on it abruptly. He then tucked it inside his robes.

"Follow," Snape intoned. He swept forward, pushing open the door and then disappearing into the hallway.

Fleur slipped out the door as quickly as she could. Hermione felt her shoulders slump a little. It seemed Fleur was still intent on avoiding her as much as possible. She sighed, following the rest of the students out of the room and after Snape.

Luna walked beside her, radish earrings swinging.

"I'm sure she'll get over it, Hermione," Luna said reassuringly. Hermione frowned.

"I'm not sure she will," Hermione admitted.

Snape led the group to a similar looking door at the end of the hallway. He pushed it open and then stood aside, gesturing for the students to enter.

The room was a total mess. Hermione wondered if Snape had ever attempted to keep it tidy. Some of the shelves had entirely toppled over and there were ingredients, equipment and rags everywhere. Hermione watched Fleur eye some cobwebs with disgust. The dim lighting in the room made her look even more beautiful, even when so clearly displeased with her surroundings.

The boys set to work pushing up some of the heavy shelves near Fleur, making sure to flex their muscles as they did so. Fleur rolled her eyes obviously, turning her attentions to a stack of different herbs and leaves that were mixed up.

"How come she gets a detention but the guy who grabbed Gabrielle doesn't?" Hermione muttered to Luna, watching Fleur sift through the ingredients.

"He's still in the Hospital Wing," Pansy said, appearing beside Hermione again, a cauldron in her hands, "Guess Delacour packs quite a kick."

Hermione scowled, sick of how Pansy seemed to constantly be in her face this evening.

"Shut up, Parkinson," Hermione muttered, stepping firmly away from the intolerable Slytherin.

She picked a corner of the room where there were some interesting looking, but battered, textbooks. Some looked too vandalised to be much use—notes scrawled over the covers and pages.

It was a good spot to clean—far enough away from Pansy. That and she also had a good view of Fleur so she could keep an eye on her.

Hermione picked up some of the tattered looking textbooks. Her brown eyes roamed over the dog-eared pages and scuffed covers. She wondered idly if Snape would mind if she bothered one of the more advanced textbooks so she could peruse it. She was dying to know what potions were covered in future years. She inwardly snorted—as _if_ Snape would lend her anything. If the greasy git had left her with a wand she might have been able to mend some of the battered books.

She glanced up to the doorway of the storeroom. Snape was standing just outside the doorway, only his robes in sight. He was idly reading a _Daily Prophet_ , no doubt packed full of Skeeter crap.

Hermione's gaze flicked back to inside the storeroom.

Fleur was still organising herbs from the stack on the other side of the room. She bent down to pick up a dried up looking bundle. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. Fleur's short skirt rode up a little as she bent to pick up the dried herbs, showing off her long toned legs. Hermione willed herself to stop looking at them, but only ended up noticing Fleur's backside in the form-fitting skirt instead. She felt a dark blush bloom in her cheeks and hid her warming face behind the stack of old textbooks in embarrassment. The room suddenly felt absolutely sweltering. Hermione's heart was pounding.

"First crush?"

Luna came to join Hermione, speaking in her quiet dreamy voice. She picked up one of the textbooks, observing it with a strange diligence that Hermione had not expected of her.

"Er, first one this… intense…" Hermione admitted as quietly as she could, blushing darker. She ducked her head, inwardly praying that Fleur didn't turn around and see her red-faced and flustered.

Luna shrugged.

"We're teenagers," Luna commented, "Nothing to be embarrassed about."

"Some of us have a sense of embarrassment," Hermione replied defensively, eying Luna's dangling radish earrings. She softened immediately as Luna kept watching her with her steady crystal gaze, "Er, sorry. I'm not quite myself lately."

"That's okay," Luna replied.

She stacked a textbook on top of the pile Hermione had neatly started to make. Hermione felt herself relax a little as she stacked another one on top of Luna's one. They were falling into an easy rhythm now.

Luna was surprisingly easy going for someone who was so heavily bullied at Hogwarts. Things rarely seemed to bother her. Hermione had to admire that, as much as some of Luna's flakiness rubbed her the wrong way.

"The Slytherins are giving you a hard time about messing things up with Fleur, huh?" Luna said conversationally, pulling some leaves out of the pages of one of the stray textbooks.

Hermione shot a cautious look at Luna. The Ravenclaw was very immersed in her task, sandy blonde hair falling down over her face as she worked.

Hermione looked back at the textbook in her own hands. Vandalised by some self-titled 'Half-Blood Prince.' Hermione frowned, smoothing down some crumpled pages before adding it to the stack.

"They are," Hermione replied, "But they give me stick about everything. If it wasn't about this, it would be about something else."

"She is very attractive," Luna conceded, glancing up briefly at Fleur, "But she seems very different to who I would imagine you would be attracted to."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, looking at the blonde beside her, "She's super intelligent! I mean, I'm still wondering why she picked a complex sleeping spell over a stunning spell for the dragon in the First Task."

"Probably because the increased complexity was worth it for the decreased harm to the magical creature," Luna surmised, surprising Hermione, "But no, I meant that she can be a little cold and rude. You can be _bossy_ and rude, of course, but that's quite different."

Momentarily skipping over the insult to herself, Hermione immediately let her gaze flick back to Fleur. The blonde was visibly rolling her eyes as the Durmstrang boy near her tried to strike up a conversation.

"She's not like that all the time," Hermione said, half in reply to Luna, half to herself, "When she lets her guard down she's really quite… Nice…"

She missed the smile that graced Luna's features as the dreamy girl watched her. Luna had far more observational skill than people gave her credit for.

"Are you going to mend things with her?" Luna asked, bringing the brunette's attention back to her.

"Erm, I dunno," Hermione said, embarrassed again. She rubbed the back of her neck, "I've tried talking to her but I either say the wrong thing or she doesn't want to listen… Or both."

"Well… Maybe you should just let her cool off for a while," Luna said cautiously, "Everyone at the Ravenclaw table has noticed she has been in a bit of a mood lately."

"I… I just wish I could talk normally to her without screwing it up," Hermione sighed, "I don't know why I turn into an idiot whenever she is near."

Hermione never in a million years would have pictured herself confiding in Looney Lovegood in one of Snape's filthy dungeons. But, life had a funny way of working out.

"Because teenagers are horny idiots," Luna said bluntly.

Hermione coloured and made a slight choking noise in indignation.

"I'm – You - I'm _not_ —" Hermione struggled to get out, blushing darkly, "I just… _Like_ her is all."

"Yes, well, of course you like her too," Luna replied, "But I mean, it's quite natural for a teenager to get a little tongue tied when speaking to a pretty girl, yeah?"

Hermione frowned. She was above such trivialities.

"I'm not that daft," Hermione muttered darkly, "I'm not some bumbling love-struck teen girl mooning over a 'hot student' in school."

Luna stacked another textbook into their neat pile.

"No," Luna smiled, looking up at Hermione with her crystal blue eyes, "You're Hermione Granger."

Yes. She was.

Hermione straightened her back proudly. She suddenly regretted the classes she had spent mourning her lost chances with Fleur. She wasn't that girl. She was the one that succeeded in every class, no matter what drama was unfolding behind the scenes.

She glanced up cautiously at Fleur again.

The blonde—thankfully—was standing up again, sorting through the herbs on the table in front of her. Her elegant features looked even more unearthly beautiful in the dim light of the dungeon storeroom.

She seemed calmer now she was absorbed in her task and not being bothered by the Durmstrang boy. Hermione found herself smiling slightly as she watched.

Hermione hated the nature of feelings. She'd always loathed the boy-crazy discussions that Lavender and Parvati had initiated in the Gryffindor girls' dormitories. No, Hermione preferred academics and more challenging pursuits. She hated trivialities.

She cocked her head to one side, still watching Fleur. Perhaps she was approaching this all wrong. She was trying to bullishly push through and explain herself to Fleur. If she thought about it, she was behaving an awful lot like Lavender and Parvati did with boys. Hermione frowned distastefully at that realisation.

She should be approaching it like any other problem she usually approached.

She considered the facts as she turned her attentions back to the chaotic textbooks in front of her. She straightened another one out and stacked it on top of the ones she and Luna had already organised.

"You know, you're right, Luna," Hermione finally said, dusting off a filthy textbook, "Maybe I should let her cool off a little first and think through how I approach her."

Luna smiled dreamily at her.

"Yes, well I don't imagine Fleur Delacour is the kind of girl who is easily won over, let alone won _back_ over," Luna nodded.

Hermione looked at Luna appraisingly.

"You know," Hermione said, giving Luna a scrutinising look, "I see why you're in Ravenclaw."


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione hissed and sucked on her index finger as she got another papercut. Luna and her had finished the textbooks and now moved on to the large amount of loose papers. Pansy had tried to lobby Snape to let her toss the lot, which had further soured the Potions-master's mood. So now Luna and Hermione were sifting through it all. Snape had set Pansy to mopping the floors in retaliation, further buoying Hermione's mood. It seemed his favouritism for Slytherins did have its limits after all.

Hermione didn't mind sorting out the papers with Luna. There were some interesting tidbits on the papers. Luna seemed similarly interested, commenting on interesting facts she came across in the papers she was organising.

Hermione had noticed that over the evening, Fleur had at least seemed to relax a little around her.

Once she had realised that Hermione had given up on trying to force a conversation with her, the blonde had stopped keeping herself to the furthest away edges of the room.

As Hermione snuck a peek over her papers, she even noticed Fleur had stopped openly scowling. Hermione smiled slightly, being careful to look away before Fleur caught her looking.

"Checking out Delacour yet again?" Pansy asked snidely, flinging herself into a chair beside Hermione.

"What do you want, Parkinson?" Hermione sighed.

Pansy had been busy for much of detention mopping the floors after she'd annoyed Snape by trying to get rid of his papers. Hermione had enjoyed the break from Pansy's needling.

"Just making conversation," Pansy smirked, crossing her legs. She ran a hand through her bob of black hair. It wasn't as glossy after a solid hour of mopping in the dungeon storeroom, but she was still looking infuriatingly stylish.

"Sure you are," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes, "Some of us are still working on cleaning the storeroom."

Pansy frowned, crossing her arms.

"Excuse me, I mopped the floors entirely while you two were busy reading in the corner," Pansy retorted.

"Reading!" Hermione retorted, "Do you know how long it has taken to sort out all these papers and textbooks?"

Pansy smirked unpleasantly.

"I imagine twice as long with you staring at a part-Creature like you want to jump her," Pansy sneered.

"I—" Hermione inwardly cursed how awkward she could get when being called out for her attraction for Fleur, "I do not stare at her like that," Hermione finally managed to hiss.

She straightened her back and tried to look casual as Fleur herself walked past the table of books and papers, the blonde's pretty face perfectly neutral. Pansy observed Hermione's reaction, smiling widely.

"Sure," Pansy drawled, "Maybe if you weren't so busy jerking off to Delacour you would have noticed that you missed the pile of textbooks behind the bookshelves over there too."

Hermione frowned, wanting to retort, before following Pansy's gaze. Sure enough, over by the bookshelves that the Ravenclaw and Durmstrang boy had righted, was a horrific mountain of discarded textbooks and papers even bigger than the one they had just about completed.

"For Pete's sake," Hermione groaned.

"It's okay," Luna said dreamily, "Detention is almost over anyway."

Hermione got up and walked with Luna to the bookshelves. The Ravenclaw and Durmstrang boy were still milling around, moving boxes.

"Yeah, I heard Delacour likes chicks," the Ravenclaw guy was telling the Durmstrang boy.

Hermione ignored them, setting to work on the mountain of textbooks with Luna. She tried not to let herself get irritated.

The Durmstrang boy frowned at the Ravenclaw boy, stopping mid-way through picking up a box.

"Yeah… But she likes boys too, yes?" the Durmstrang boy asked.

"Dunno, mate," the Ravenclaw boy said, puffing out his chest and crossing his arms, "But if she does, I'm betting she would rather a British lad over a… Whatever you are."

"Russian," the Durmstrang boy replied, grinning, "You really think she vould go for you over me?"

Hermione felt her teeth clenching.

"I do, mate," the Ravenclaw insisted, "I bet I could shag her before you could."

Hermione scowled then. She could barely handle how irritated the stupid boys were making her.

"Ignore them, Hermione," Luna counselled her quietly, "Just like I've been ignoring the Nargles in the corner."

But Hermione couldn't help but continue to listen in.

"Yeah?" the Durmstrang boy challenged, stepping up to the Ravenclaw boy, "Five galleons says I fuck her before you do."

The Ravenclaw boy was extending his hand to shake his agreement when Hermione stomped over to them and slapped his hand away.

"Are you really that much of a pig?!" Hermione exclaimed angrily, "How dare you treat her like an object?!"

Pansy Parksinson, as if summoned, sashayed her way over to the conversation.

"Um, weren't you the one running literal experiments on her?" Pansy smirked, interjecting.

"Shut up, Pansy," Hermione snapped, turning to the insufferable Slytherin. She glanced nervously across the room, wanting to check that Fleur was still out of earshot.

Pansy had pushed her far enough during detention. Now here she was, hands on hips, smirking at Hermione with her bright red lipstick.

The Ravenclaw boy was glancing between Hermione and Pansy, entirely thrown off.

"Why?" Pansy challenged, stepping towards Hermione, "You're not her keeper. Although she probably needs one, being part-animal and all."

"Don't talk about her like that," Hermione growled, stepping forward.

Pansy moved even closer, right into Hermione's personal space. Her grey eyes shone with mean-spirited enjoyment. She seemed to be deriving pleasure from riling Hermione up. If Hermione were less irritable, she would have realised that instead of taking the bait.

Pansy chuckled.

"Why are you defending her? It's not like you have a monopoly on treating her like shit," Pansy needled.

Hermione scowled at this. She was sick of Pansy bringing up her mistakes. She felt bad enough as it was without the sneering Slytherin reminding her about it constantly.

"That was a mistake," Hermione hissed between gritted teeth. Her honey flecked-brown eyes flashed with anger.

"See, I don't think it was," Pansy sneered, inclining her head, "I think deep down you're just as Slytherin as I am. You saw a part-Creature and you wanted to use her for your own selfish needs—even if they were dorky as hell."

A muscle tensed in Hermione's jaw. She dragged a lock of curled brown hair behind her ear, trying to calm down.

"It wasn't like that," Hermione said slowly, her teeth still gritted, "I don't see her like that."

Pansy laughed, turning on her heel.

"Admit it, Granger," Pansy laughed airily, "You're no better than the rest of us. It doesn't matter how many Tournaments she enters or Tasks she wins, that Veela is nothing but a hot piece of ass. She's never going to be anything more."

Hermione snapped, lunging forward and shoving Pansy.

"Girl fight," the Durmstrang boy snickered to the Ravenclaw boy, nudging him.

"Shut up before I hex your bollocks off," Hermione snapped, turning to the boys.

"Hermione," Luna stepped forward, putting a calming hand on her shoulder, "When I get bothered by Kiffles, I often have to tell myself that they're just silly little things that like to wind me up."

Hermione took a deep breath. She was being irrational. She didn't even have her wand, for Merlin's sake. She couldn't hex anyone, even if she wanted to.

Luna was probably right—whatever she was on about.

She needed to stick to reason. The last thing she wanted was another detention with Parkinson.

"Luna's right," Hermione growled, "None of you are worth it."

She turned and calmly walked back to the stack of books and papers that they were supposed to be organising. Luna floated along behind her, smiling dreamily.

"Well, actually Kiffles are very much worth it, Hermione," Luna insisted, "Given their disputed existence, if you could ever catch one, you could earn quite the reward."

Hermione forced a smile. While she had forged a surprising friendship with the blonde over the course of detention, she would still never quite get her.

"Sure."

Hermione glanced across the room again. There was a sudden tug in her chest as her eyes locked with bright azure. Fleur was leaning against the wall near the door. She was looking at Hermione so intently the brunette wondered if she had heard the kerfuffle with Pansy and the pigheaded boys.

Fleur quickly flicked her gaze elsewhere in the room, though Hermione still felt the funny feeling in her stomach long after she had looked away.

Snape swept into the room, withdrawing the cloth bag of wands from his cloak.

"Despite your utterly weak attempts at cleaning the storeroom, your detention is up," Snape intoned nasally, "Collect your wands and get out of my sight."

Fleur, in a flash of powder blue and platinum blonde hair took her wand and whipped out of the dungeon.

Hermione couldn't help but feel a slight disappointment within her.

She pondered it as she trailed behind Luna to collect her own wand.

She'd never really had a proper crush like this before. It was strange. Something about Fleur just drew her in. She looked forward to the smallest opportunity to see Fleur, even if it was just catching a glimpse of her across a crowded hall on her way to class.

When she did see her, her stomach would jerk and wobble wildly. Just from catching sight of her!

It defied the world of facts and reason that Hermione had come to hold dear.

It scared Hermione a little.

She'd got so angry at hearing Pansy and the boys in detention speaking badly about Fleur. So angry she'd been close to shoving one of them and landing herself in yet another detention.

Nothing had ever pushed her buttons so dramatically before.

Sure, she'd punched Draco the previous year. But he had been absolutely dreadful to Harry, Ron and herself for years, building up to the truly dreadful conversation that made her hit him.

But Draco had been needling them at a rough time. Harry and Ron had been the first proper friends Hermione had ever had in her life. There were a lot of logical feelings tied in that Hermione had understood, even as she had nursed her knuckles. She'd been surprised she had hit Draco, but she understood it.

Fleur, however. Hermione had only really been friendly with her for a few weeks. The extreme reaction Hermione had experienced to people insulting Fleur in passing just wasn't logical.

"I hate feelings," Hermione sighed, "They don't make any sense at all."

"I think they make sense," Luna shrugged.

"You think Nargles make sense," Hermione grumbled.

Fleur must have moved very quickly through the halls, even in her high heels. She was no longer in sight. Luna and Hermione were trailing behind the boys from detention and Pansy.

"Nargles do make sense," Luna replied absently.

* * *

In the weeks after detention, Hermione was pleased to notice that Fleur had stopped actively avoiding her.

She walked past her as if she didn't know her—but she no longer hurried past or glared. Hermione had optimistically decided to chalk it up as a kind of win. In her mind, any thawing of Fleur's ice queen exterior was an achievement.

The downside was that following their stand off in Potions and their subsequent detention, Pansy had doubled down on pestering Hermione. She seemed to be wherever Hermione was, with a jibe or or sneer at the ready.

Hermione was standing in an outdoor courtyard with Harry and Ron during lunchtime, discussing their upcoming Transfiguration test. Harry and Ron were predictably relaxed, declining Hermione's offer to study for the test in the library.

Hermione was at a loss as to how to motivate them. She exhaled heavily, running a hand through her tangled curls.

"You guys always do this," Hermione sighed, "In a week from now you're just going to come to me begging for my notes,"

"Well, it's a good thing we're such good mates then, huh?" Ron grinned, loosening his scarlet and gold tie.

There was a flurry of powder-blue as Beauxbatons girls stepped into the courtyard. They were accompanied by some Ravenclaw boys and Durmstrang boys. Ron glared at them.

"Why are the French birds so crazy for Ravenclaws and Durmstrangs? Have they not heard that Gryffindors are the brave and heroic ones?" Ron sulked.

"I dunno, maybe you should tell them that, mate," Harry smirked, amused at how sulky Ron was acting.

Hermione would usually be rolling her eyes at Ron's behaviour, but she had just noticed Fleur was in the crowd. The part-Veela was shivering, her long platinum-blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. She didn't seem amused by her friends, her full lips in a pout.

Hermione found herself smiling slightly.

Hermione knew she was in a bad mood because of the cold. Hermione wished she could help her.

Julie, taller than Fleur, moved behind the blonde and wrapped her arms around her. She rested her chin on Fleur's shoulder, smiling and muttering something to the blonde.

Hermione felt a pang of jealousy. She wished she was the one warming up the blonde.

As she continued to watch, Fleur shrugged temperamentally out of Julie's arms. She frowned and began to fish around in her leather satchel. Fleur produced a scarlet and gold scarf from her satchel, pulling it around her neck.

Hermione's stomach flipped. It was the scarf she had given Fleur.

"Looks like some of the Beauxbatons girls do like Gryffindors," Harry commented, nodding towards Fleur.

"Cor! Who gave her a scarf?!" Ron exclaimed in shock, "Why didn't I think of that?!"

Harry elbowed Ron.

"Mate, you know Hermione has a crush on her," Harry reminded Ron.

Ron shook his head, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

"Who said mates can't have crushes on the same girls?" Ron said defensively, "Besides, Hermione already struck out with her."

'Maybe not,' Hermione thought to herself, smiling slightly as she turned her gaze back to the blonde beauty wearing her scarf.

The urge to go and try to talk to Fleur was bubbling up again within Hermione. She thought back to Luna's surprisingly apt advice about giving the blonde some space. If she wanted Fleur to thaw further, she had to stick to her resolution to give her time to calm down.

"I'm going to the library," Hermione abruptly informed the boys.

At least there, the temptation of talking to Fleur would not be right in front of her.

"Library?!" Ron snorted, "You do know we have more class after lunch, right?"

"I'm aware, Ronald," Hermione replied with a shrug, "Some of us like to keep on top of our work."

Ron cast an incredulous look at Harry as Hermione slung her bag more firmly on her shoulder and headed back inside the castle and off to the library.

The best thing about going to the Hogwarts library during her lunchtimes was that there were never many other people there. It made Hermione feel like she had the place to herself.

On rainy days or during the evenings, the library usually filled up quite a bit with students hanging out with those outside of their own House or frantically trying to get work done.

Hermione sat down at her favourite table, sighing contentedly.

"'Ermione!"

Hermione hadn't even begun to unpack her satchel when the smallest Delacour scampered up to her excitedly.

"Please tell me you haven't snuck off on your own again," Hermione said with a smile, accepting a hug from Gabrielle.

"Non, non, I am being good," Gabrielle told her proudly, a broad grin on her features, "My tutor took me 'ere."

"And where is she?" Hermione asked curiously. She couldn't see the matronly woman anywhere.

Gabrielle smiled slyly.

"She was moving too slowly zrough ze shelves," Gabrielle said mischievously, "So I slipped out to find ze good books."

Hermione sighed, yet she couldn't help but smile. Gabrielle was quite adorable, even if she was a handful.

"Did you find any?" Hermione asked.

Gabrielle nodded emphatically, pulling her backpack off and energetically unzipping it. Hermione leaned forward with interest as Gabrielle pulled out a book. Hermione recognised the cover instantly.

"'Ogwarts: A 'Istory!" Gabrielle beamed, "Now I'm going to be ze one zat knows all ze secret passages and trick stairs!"

"Hey, not all of them are in that book," Hermione smiled. She thought to herself about all the outrageous spots they had found on the Maurauder's Map, the strange tunnel in the Whomping Willow, and the Room of Requirement. None of them had been in the textbook. Still, it was an exciting read and taught Hermione quite a lot of things about the school and its grounds.

"As long as you don't use it to get into mischief," Hermione said with a grin, knowing quite well that she and the boys had got into quite enough mischief over the years themselves.

Gabrielle just smiled cheekily.

"How are you anyway, Gabrielle?" Hermione asked, "I feel like I don't see you around as much."

"Fleur doesn't like me talking to you," Gabrielle said sulkily, stuffing her book back in her backpack.

"I'm sorry about that, Gabrielle," Hermione said genuinely, "I've been trying to make things better with your sister, but I figured she needed some space to calm down. It makes sense for her to be angry at someone for breaking her trust."

"Oui, she 'as a 'uuuuge temper!" Gabrielle said dramatically, before gasping, "But don't tell 'er I told you zat, or she will get annoyed wiz me!"

Hermione stifled a giggle. Gabrielle was truly adorable.

"Gabrielle!" a woman's voice barked from deep in the shelves. Gabrielle's eyes went wide.

"Oops!" Gabrielle gasped, pulling her backpack on, "Zat is my tutor! I'd better go back to 'er! I will see you around soon, 'Ermione! Don't give up on Fleur, she really liked you before she got mad!"

The little girl scampered off, her backpack bouncing wildly as she ducked around the shelves back to her tutor.

Hermione smiled, shaking her head.

As she pulled out her books, she couldn't help but smile wider at Gabrielle's parting words. Fleur had really liked her.

Between that and Fleur wearing her scarf again, Hermione was beginning to feel far more optimistic.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry tossed his golden egg from hand to hand. There was a heavy thwack as he hit it hard with his palm on each catch.

Ron eyed it cautiously.

"Just don't let that thing fly open, mate," Ron warned, "I can't handle that screeching anymore."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry grumbled, tossing the egg even harder.

"Have you got any closer to working it out?" Hermione asked Harry.

She was sitting across from him on a squashy red couch in the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione watched as Harry paled, his thick black eyebrows knitting together.

"Erm…" Harry halted his egg tossing, "They said the Second Task wouldn't be for ages yet. Remember? At the scoring?"

"Hermione wasn't at the scoring for the First Task," Ron commented, biting into a biscuit, "Where were you anyway, 'Mione? Couldn't wait for the scores before running off to study in the library?"

"Something like that," Hermione said awkwardly.

While she had confessed her research project and her crush to the boys, somehow it felt far worse admitting she had accidentally drugged the Beauxbatons Champion. She decided to twist the topic firmly back to the Second Task.

"Harry, surely you have at least _tried_ to work out what the noise is," Hermione said bossily. Harry could be so lazy when it came to doing his schoolwork. Somehow, she had assumed that the threat of serious injury or death would have snapped that laziness out of him when it came to the Triwizard Tournament.

"Er…"

Harry's response said it all. Hermione felt her anxiety spike at her best's friend's lack of preparedness.

Hermione liked to do her assignments the day they were assigned.

Harry not even bothering to crack open a book after weeks of having the egg was enough to give Hermione a panic attack.

"Harry," Hermione chided. It was all she could manage to get out without audibly gasping.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Hermione, he's got months," Ron pointed out, waving his biscuit for effect, "You always get your knickers in a twist over the smallest things when it comes to study."

"Study?!" Hermione retorted shrilly, "I _wish_ this was just one of Snape's essays! Ronald, if Harry isn't prepared, he could _die!_ How is he supposed to prepare if he hasn't even started working out the clue?!"

Hermione was so worked up she didn't notice Harry further paling, swallowing nervously.

"'Mione! You're freaking him out, mate!" Ron said, getting a little heated.

"I'm trying to help!" Hermione insisted, "Which, if I recall correctly, is more than you did for Harry before the First Task!"

"Oh so you're just going to hang that over my head for the rest of our lives then, are you?!" Ron shot back, standing up. He had all but forgotten his cup of tea and biscuits now.

"Guys," Harry interrupted, " _Neither_ of you are helping right now. You're both stressing me out!"

Hermione and Ron halted their argument, both overcome with a sudden sense of guilt.

"Er, sorry mate," Ron muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, "Cup of tea?"

"No offense, but I think it'll take a bit more than a cup of tea to calm me down over this bloody Tournament," Harry replied, "I mean… Whoever put my name in is definitely trying to harm me, right?!"

"Er, not necessarily," Ron said reassuringly, patting Harry roughly on the shoulder with a large hand.

"Harry," Hermione said sympathetically, leaning forward in her seat, "What can I do to help?"

Harry sat forward in his seat, resting his head in his hands. He groaned.

"I just… Between not knowing how to figure out who put my name in, and not having the foggiest about this stupid egg clue, my head's a bit of a mess to be honest," Harry confessed.

Hermione felt a wave of sympathy for her friend. It wasn't his fault he ended up in mortal peril every single year.

"I'm sorry… I've been a little distracted this year," Hermione apologised, "But I promise you I'm there for you. I'm going to help you figure out this clue. Then as soon as I've done that, I promise we'll work out who put your name in the goblet."

Ron, for his part, promised to make Harry a cup of tea when he felt up to it.

Hermione couldn't judge him too hard for it though, the redhead had always been a bit clueless when it came to emotional support.

It was late, but Hermione headed straight down to the library, leaving Ron to cheer Harry up with a game of Exploding Snap.

* * *

Hermione yawned. She'd made her way through a large stack of books. She had compiled a list of no less than one hundred possible reasons for a scream erupting from an egg.

Yet… Somehow she felt further away from the answer than when she started. But at least she had put in an effort for Harry.

She felt like her attention had been split all year. It was beginning to really test her. She didn't want to let down her best mates because of her crush on Fleur.

She frowned, checking her wristwatch.

_Eleven?!_

It was _well_ after curfew!

Usually Madam Pince went around and warned students when they were getting close to curfew.

The last thing she needed was to get caught by Mrs Norris and Filch. Hermione wasn't sure she could stomach another detention in Snape's bombsite of a potions cellar.

She packed her satchel up rapidly, stifling another yawn as she shouldered it and headed carefully out of the library.

The hallways were dark. The only light was from the spread out candles set into the stone walls of the corridors. Hermione shivered. Hogwarts had always held a bit of an unnerving edge to it since her Second Year with the Basilisk.

Hermione stepped out into the hallway quietly, pausing for a moment. She couldn't hear anyone. Couldn't see any sign of Mrs Norris. The coast seemed clear.

Hermione inwardly wished she had thought to borrow Harry's Invisibility Cloak or Marauder's Map. She should have known in her eagerness to help him she would accidentally stay too late in the library.

Hermione stepped through the shadowy hallway, heading in the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room. She willed herself not to remember the days of the Basilisk. There probably wasn't anything lurking in the shadows of Hogwarts that could hurt her…

There was a sudden scuffling right beside Hermione's elbow and she jumped, letting out a gasp. Her heart felt like it leapt into her mouth with fear.

"'Ermione?!"

Hermione's heart was still pounding, but her senses calmed as she recognised the voice.

"Gabrielle?!" Hermione hissed.

A small blonde figure clambered out from behind a suit of armour.

"'Ermione! I followed a tunnel all ze way from outside!" Gabrielle said proudly. Her platinum blonde hair was in a high ponytail, bouncing excitedly as she talked.

"Gabrielle!" Hermione exclaimed in a hushed tone, "You—Shouldn't – This is far too late for you to be out! Let alone wandering the grounds alone! What are you doing here?!"

Gabrielle pouted, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. She looked so much like her older sister when she was unhappy it was truly uncanny.

"I wanted to explore," Gabrielle explained sulkily, "My tutor barely lets me out of 'er sight, so I stayed up extra late to explore!"

Hermione sighed, opening her mouth to give Gabrielle a lecture on how unsafe it was when the sound of loud shoes on the stone floors of Hogwarts.

Hermione grabbed Gabrielle and dragged them both behind the suit of armour. It would just make matters worse if they both ended up with a detention.

Gabrielle seemed to take Hermione's lead, crouching beside her in the shadows of the suit of armour. Gabrielle linked a small arm through Hermione's arm, holding her tightly. Hermione rested a hand on top of Gabrielle's, trying to keep the small girl calm even though her own heart was pounding.

The footsteps were getting closer. Hermione noticed that they sounded a little unsteady. They also sounded quite distinctive. It sounded like the person walking towards them was wearing high heels.

Gabrielle suddenly released Hermione, wriggling out of her grasp and ducking out from their hiding place.

"Gabrielle, no—" Hermione started, jumping out to pull the small blonde child back.

"Gabrielle!" a female and slurred voice called out boisterously.

Hermione halted in her steps as Gabrielle beamed and turned back to look at her.

"'Ermione, it is just Julie!" Gabrielle giggled, relieved.

Hermione stepped forward warily, taking in the appearance of the tall dark-haired Frenchwoman. Fleur's _friend_ (Hermione still very much remembered that they shared several more-than-friendly moments in their friendship) was looking oddly dishevelled.

Julie, as much as Hermione loathed to admit it, was a gorgeous girl who was always presented impeccably. Her long dark hair was always styled to perfection and her uniform was always freshly pressed and clean.

Now, however, Julie seemed off. She had a dark burgundy stain on the front of her uniform. Her dark hair was in soft curls but was messy and tousled. One of her eyes had smudged eyeshadow. Her eyes themselves seemed unfocussed.

What really caught Hermione's attention was the strong smell of wine emanating from the teen.

"Are you drunk?" Hermione hissed scandalously.

Julie giggled and shrugged.

"I was 'anging out wiz some Ravenclaws," Julie explained, wobbling a little in her high heels, "Zen some lovely redheaded twins from Gryffindor joined and brought some _belle_ wine."

_Fred and George. Of course._

Hermione made a mental note to tell off the twins later. For now, she had to deal with the situation at hand.

She was not only roaming the halls after curfew—a detention-inducing situation as it was—but she was in the company of a young girl who was not allowed to go anywhere alone and a _very_ drunk teen.

Hermione briefly mulled over the option of simply leaving Julie to make her way back to the Beauxbatons Carriage with Gabrielle. It was hardly her problem.

But as Julie wobbled a little on her feet, Hermione felt her sense of Gryffindor duty kick in.

"Okay," Hermione sighed heavily, "How are we going to get you guys back to your Carriage without getting caught?"

"I don't want to go back to ze Carriage!" Gabrielle protested, putting her hands on her hips, "Zings are finally getting interesting around 'ere!"

"Gabrielle," Hermione sighed, trying to think of a way to convince the wayward child to get back to bed, "If you're caught, you're not going to be able to do _anything_ fun."

Gabrielle pouted, mulling over Hermione's words.

"Fine, but we get to take ze fun tunnel back to ze Carriage," Gabrielle insisted.

Hermione shut her eyes briefly, trying not to show her impatience. Gabrielle was adorable, but she was entirely naïve as to how dangerous Hogwarts could be. Taking a tunnel she had never scoped out before filled Hermione with a sense of dread. From Basilisks, to deadly giant chess games, to Devil's Snare, the building was positively brimming with dangerous secrets.

"Absolutely not," Hermione said finally.

"Why can we not take zis tunnel, it sounds fun, non?" Julie asked, leaning forward unsteadily and throwing an arm around Hermione's neck.

Hermione frowned.

"Because maybe taking unknown tunnels in the middle of the night, when _nobody_ knows where we are, and one of us is extremely drunk, is a little unsafe?!" Hermione hissed.

Julie leaned further into her, giggling.

"'As anyone ever told you zat you need to loosen up?" Julie asked. Hermione frowned further.

She hardly needed Fleur's _friend_ telling her how to act. Especially when she was saving her hide.

_"Waow!"_

Hermione froze, looking in the direction of the ugly meow.

Sure enough, in the dim light of the hallway candles, was Mrs Norris. The haggard looking cat was standing right in the centre of the hallway they needed to take.

"I don't like cats," Gabrielle stated boldly.

"I don't like _this_ cat!" Hermione replied, stressed, "We need to get out of here _right now._ Where's that tunnel, Gabrielle?"

"Yes!" Gabrielle beamed excitedly, "Right 'ere be'ind zis suit of armour, 'Ermione!"

"'Ow exciting!" Julie giggled.

"Quiet, let's just get out of here!" Hermione urged the two girls.

Mrs Norris had already scampered off, no doubt to fetch Filch.

Gabrielle ducked behind the suit of armour, tapping excitedly on a big tile of stone set into the wall. It slowly shifted, creating a space just large enough to crawl through. Gabrielle disappeared through the hole immediately.

"Be careful, it is easy to stumble by ze wall 'ere," Gabrielle called out from inside the tunnel.

Hermione inwardly sighed at how excited Gabrielle sounded by the prospect. She had thought she had found a miniature Hermione when she had met Gabrielle. It seemed Gabrielle also had a streak of Harry and Ron within her too.

Hermione, waving at Julie to follow her, got to her hands and knees and wriggled through the gap in the stone wall.

It was dark and cold inside the tunnel, though she could see Gabrielle had lit her wand. Hermione inwardly thanked whatever person had taught the young girl a lumos spell so young.

The ground was uneven and rocky around the hole in the wall and Hermione relied heavily on the glow of Gabrielle's wand to get to her feet. She had just unsteadily got to her feet when Julie emerged behind her, leaping to her own feet too fast. She promptly lost her balance, pulling Hermione down with her.

"Oof!" Hermione fell heavily to the ground, landing on her stomach so hard that all the air rushed out of her lungs.

Julie landed on Hermione, cursing loudly right in Hermione's ear.

"Sorry," Julie apologised, though she made no move to get off Hermione.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, fuming at landing so hard on the craggy ground of the tunnel. Her ribs ached, her elbows were grazed. Not to mention, it was purely salt in the wound that she could feel just how incredibly Julie's body was against her.

The tall dark-haired girl was pressed hard against her. Hermione could feel Julie's full breasts against her back and the softness of her wine-laced breath against her neck. It annoyed her that she found Julie attractive. It just further rubbed in the fact that Julie had got a hell of a lot further with Fleur than Hermione would ever get.

"Get off me!" Hermione snapped.

Julie apologised again, but finally obliged, getting off Hermione and helping her to her feet. Hermione begrudgingly accepted the helping hand. But once she was back on her feet, she let go of Julie's hand instantly, rubbing her grazed elbows.

"I did not mean to 'urt you," Julie said earnestly.

Her words struck further than intended, Hermione still feeling wounded over Julie's closeness with Fleur.

"Whether you intended to or not, I'm hurt all the same," Hermione said waspishly. She turned her attentions to Gabrielle, "Gabrielle, are you okay?"

"Oui!" Gabrielle said proudly, puffing out her chest proudly, "I didn't stumble once!"

"A natural explorer, huh?" Hermione said, rubbing her elbows. She smiled slightly at how widely Gabrielle smiled at her words. She might be yet another trouble-magnet in Hermione's life, but she was truly adorable.

"Oui!" Gabrielle agreed, "Follow me!"

The small blonde turned on her heel, holding her wand heroically in front of her. Hermione sighed, following Gabrielle's lead.

Sooner or later, this entire debacle would be over and Hermione could get back to her own bed. The sooner she could be rid of the drunk Julie, the better.

As if on cue, Julie fell into step beside Hermione.

"Do you 'ave a problem wiz me?" Julie asked.

Hermione ignored her, keeping her gaze steadily on Gabrielle, who was bounding ahead a little ahead of them.

"Is zis because of Fleur?" Julie asked.

Hermione shot her a sidelong glance.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Hermione said defensively.

"Fleur didn't tell me about it," Julie explained, "I 'eard from ze ozzer students about what 'appened on your 'Ogsmeade trip."

"She didn't tell you?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow, "Aren't you quite close with her?"

Hermione had tried her best to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but a little may have slipped through. She hoped Julie was too drunk to notice.

"Ah, when she rejected moving our friendship to a relationship, she just said she liked someone else," Julie said, a pained look on her face, "It was quite obvious after 'earing what 'appened zat it was you she was talking about."

"You must be glad I screwed things up," Hermione said darkly.

"Why?" Julie asked quizzically, "It doesn't change Fleur's feelings for me. Now we are all sad, non?"

"All of us?" Hermione asked.

Julie nodded.

"Of course," Julie replied, "Fleur doesn't like me ze way I want, Fleur 'ad her trust broken, Fleur won't talk to you. We are all un'appy, non?"

Hermione was interested now. She wasn't sure what thread to pull at first.

"I thought… I thought you guys were together?" Hermione said, her mouth feeling a little dry.

Julie shook her head emphatically, her curls bouncing.

"Our friendship is still close," Julie said sadly, "But… We 'ave 'ad to put in some boundaries. At least until I get over my feelings for 'er."

That inwardly cheered Hermione up a little. Since seeing Fleur and Julie walking around with interlinked pinkies again, she had assumed they were back to kissing and whatever else they did together. Perhaps that explained Fleur shrugging off Julie's embrace in the courtyard. She didn't want to lead her on.

"And she told you she won't talk to me?" Hermione asked, "That her trust was broken?"

"Ah, zat she did _not_ tell me outright," Julie replied, a grim smile, "She just said zat she would no longer be spending time wiz you and to ensure I did not let Gabrielle talk to you. After I 'eard what 'ad 'appened from ze Ravenclaws, it was quite obvious, non?"

"Right," Hermione said glumly.

"She can be quite private," Julie explained, "We are close, oui, but she keeps a lot to 'erself. Fleur does not trust readily."

That made Hermione's heart sink a little more.

"I am sorry, 'Ermione," Julie replied, "Yes, we are somewhat in ze same boat, but at least it is easier for me to move on, knowing zat Fleur does not feel ze same way. I imagine it makes it 'arder knowing zat Fleur liked you back."

"Yeah," Hermione replied, her stomach feeling heavy.

At the very least, Julie hadn't tried to tell her off or have a go at her for the entire research project situation. She had merely calmly presented how things were. Hermione appreciated that.

"'Ere we are!" Gabrielle called out from ahead of them.

Thankfully, the way out was a lot larger than their way in. They didn't need to crawl or struggle, simply open a door that was disguised as wall of ivy and slip out.

Julie was still quite drunk, but Hermione took her elbow to keep her steady as they slipped across the Hogwarts grounds towards the Beauxbatons Carriage.

The Abraxans shuffled slightly as they approached, but thankfully did not fuss. Gabrielle fished out a small Beauxbatons seal from her pocket, pressing it to the door. There was a small clunking noise as the door unlocked and Gabrielle swung it open. The small blonde disappeared inside in a blur of powder-blue and blonde.

Julie attempted to clamber in, but struggled.

Hermione sighed, realising she had to help the dark-haired witch further. She took Julie's arm again, helping her inside the Carriage.

"Where is your room?" Hermione asked Julie quietly.

Julie gestured down a long hard-wood hallway, gently lit by candelabras. Hermione helped the taller girl down the hallway, inwardly cringing at how loudly her heels clicked on the hall. She just hoped it wouldn't wake Madame Maxime.

Hermione wondered where Gabrielle had disappeared to so quickly. It was unlike the small blonde not to say goodbye—but perhaps it was understandable given how far past her bedtime it was.

Julie stopped outside a door, fumbling as she pulled out a Beauxbatons seal from her own pocket.

"Julie," a soft, velvety French-accented voice murmured.

Hermione and Julie turned, both equally startled to find Fleur standing before them, Gabrielle at her side.

Fleur's eyes flicked from Julie to Hermione, the deep blue appearing more intense than usual. She was still in her uniform, her hair impeccable and tumbling down her shoulders. Her eyes quickly flicked back to Julie.

"Er, Fleur," Julie cringed, "I… Zis isn't what it looks like,"

Hermione blushed as Julie gestured between them. She suddenly felt mortified at the thought that Fleur might have assumed Julie and her were sneaking into her room to hook up.

"I know," Fleur said gently, "Gabrielle told me what 'appened."

Hermione looked at the small blonde at Fleur's side. She was looking sleepy now the excitement of her adventure was over.

Julie was averting her eyes from Fleur, playing with the Beauxbatons seal in her hands.

**"Why were you drinking with the Ravenclaws on a Tuesday night?"** Fleur asked Julie, switching to French, presumably for Julie's sake.

**"I don't know,"** Julie said dismissively, ducking her head.

**"I'm worried about you,"** Fleur said gently, **"I don't like the thought that I've hurt you. I don't like thinking that our friendship hurts you."**

**"Your friendship doesn't hurt me,"** Julie replied bitterly, **"My stupid feelings hurt me. I want us to keep being friends like we've always been, but… It's hard."**

Hermione felt terribly like she was eavesdropping again. It was obvious they didn't know she could speak French.

**"I'm sorry,"** Fleur said quietly, **"But I don't want you behaving in a self-destructive way. Promise me you will look after yourself. I might not like you the way that you want, but I care so much about you."**

Fleur stepped forward, pulling the taller girl into a tight embrace.

Hermione looked away politely as Julie sniffled a little. Julie wiped her eyes, nodding. Julie looked a little embarrassed at the situation, ducking her head. She made a quick excuse to disappear into her room, bidding goodnight to them all.

Despite the absolute clusterfuck of an evening, Hermione had at least grown a sense of sympathy for the tall Frenchwoman. She felt like she understood Julie a lot more now.

"Well… I'd better head off," Hermione said awkwardly, beginning to sidle down the hallway.

"Non," Fleur said abruptly.

Hermione halted.

Being in Fleur's presence made her stomach feel like it was doing jumping jacks. She wasn't sure whether Fleur was going to shout at her or give her an icy lecture. She wasn't sure she wanted to stick around to find out.

"Gabrielle, go to bed," Fleur instructed her younger sister, "We will talk tomorrow about your wandering."

"Fleur!" Gabrielle whined, though she yawned widely.

"Now," Fleur insisted.

Gabrielle pouted, rebelling enough to step forward and hug Hermione, before disappearing down the polished wooden hallway.

"Er, I didn't put either of them up to it," Hermione said, feeling even more nervous. This was the first time she had been alone with Fleur since detention, when Fleur had accused her of being the one that had toyed with their thralls.

"I know," Fleur replied.

Her face was painfully neutral. The dim light of the hallway was playing prettily at her elegant features, highlighting her high cheekbones and full lips. Her azure eyes glittered in the light.

Hermione swallowed heavily.

"I know you think I can't be trusted—" Hermione began.

"I don't know what to zink," Fleur interrupted. Her tone was firm, but lacked the venom of previous encounters.

"Oh…" Hermione replied dumbly. She wasn't sure what to say to Fleur. For some reason her infamous intelligence fled from her body when it came to the pretty blonde in front of her.

A silence extended between them. Hermione felt the strongest pull to step forward and wrap her arms around the blonde, but she resisted.

"Zank you for looking after my friend," Fleur said finally, "And zank you for looking after Gabrielle. I 'ad noticed neizer of zem made it back by bedtime and I was very worried."

"Oh, well, no problem," Hermione said, shuffling awkwardly on her feet. Fleur's gaze was so intense, it made all attempts at eloquence go out the window.

Fleur stepped forward suddenly, right into Hermione's personal space. Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine. Not a shiver of cold, but an electricity of sorts at the close proximity to Fleur.

Fleur leaned in, kissing Hermione first on one cheek and then on the other. It was slow and chaste, an entirely platonic cultural custom- But the softness of Fleur's full lips on Hermione's skin sent her pulse racing.

She found herself smiling goofily despite herself.

"Erm," Hermione was a little lost for words.

"Goodnight, 'Ermione," Fleur said, stepping back.

"Ah, goodnight, Fleur," Hermione replied.

Fleur's face was still infuriatingly neutral as she nodded politely. She turned on her heel, gliding off down the hallway of the Carriage.

Hermione released a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding, making her way to the exit of the Beauxbatons Carriage.

She still had to sneak all the way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, but that was the least of her worries right now. Her head was full of jumbled thoughts, more confused about Fleur than ever.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've realised that my problem with other stories is that once I get about ten chapters in I feel a huge rush to get the events over and done with because I'm impatient as hell! Then I end up with stories with normal paces starts and really rushed endings. So! As a useful exercise for myself, I set this entire chapter over the course of only one day lol, we'll see if my pacing gets better.
> 
> Let me know what you think.
> 
> Disclaimers: 1. This fic is fully Fleurmione- don't panic if they don't get together right away or there are mentions of either of them with other people. Endgame is ALWAYS Fleurmione and I'll always try and sprinkle some Fleurmione tension in amongst it all until that endgame. 2. I don't follow the HP books to the letter. I'm not worried about getting every single detail and date correct, I like tweaking events to fit my fic. I don't depart hugely from the HP world, but I'm not set on having the Tasks on the same dates or anything like that.

Hermione awoke dazed the next morning. The morning light wasn't beaming through the curtains surrounding her bed, confusing her. After checking her watch, she confirmed she had barely slept a few hours.

After getting back from the Beauxbatons Carriage, Hermione had fallen right off to sleep. But her dreams had been vivid and intense. Golden eggs, girls with soft skin and silky hair…

They were great dreams. _Very_ great dreams. But the problem was that Hermione had dreamt of girls she knew. Not just Fleur.

Hermione frowned as she leant back against her pillows.

Luna's words rang in Hermione's ears about teenagers being horny idiots. It embarrassed her, really. Since Fleur had awakened her sexuality, Hermione had been cursed with girls on the mind.

She'd dreamt of Fleur that night (which wasn't unusual), Julie, and (though Hermione would never admit it to _anyone_ ) Pansy. The result had been waking up feeling frustrated and aroused.

She hated it. Why couldn't she only dream of the girl she had a crush on? She didn't mind as much that she'd enjoyed a more-than-friendly dream about Julie, per se, but _Pansy_ was just ridiculous. She hated the Slytherin girl and everything she stood for. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to forget how much she'd enjoyed Dream-Pansy.

_'Is this how the guys have been feeling this whole time when they've been girl-obsessed?!'_ Hermione thought to herself, bewildered.

She had a couple of hours before she needed to wake up yet. She could read the new Transfiguration book she had got her hands on. That would be a sensible use of her time.

Hermione's hormonal mind rebelled yet again, replaying the moment when Fleur had leaned in and kissed her on the cheek the previous night.

Hermione sighed. If it felt that good to have a pretty girl just kiss her cheek, she couldn't wait until she properly kissed a girl. She was sure Fleur's lips on hers would feel incredible.

She pictured herself back in the Beauxbatons Carriage, standing in front of Fleur in the dim lighting. Reaching forward and tucking Fleur's soft and silky hair behind her ear. Putting her hands on Fleur's small waist and pulling her close. Their lips finally connecting in the culmination of their sexual tension.

Hermione bit her lip. She was beyond frustrated.

She couldn't really take it anymore. A night full of tantalising dreams of Fleur, Julie and Pansy followed by replaying what could have happened with Fleur—it was all too much.

Hermione, blushing, tugged the drawstring of her pyjama pants loose.

Nobody else would be awake and the curtains were tightly drawn around her bed, but Hermione still felt embarrassed at the thought of pleasuring herself in the dormitory.

Fleur's azure eyes flashed through her mind again and self-consciousness went out the window.

Hermione slipped her hand down the front of her pants, biting her lip harder as she touched the source of her discomfort.

She let her mind turn freely to Fleur now. Gods she wanted her. She wanted her held tightly against her, her lips on her, her hands on her…

Hermione stifled a moan as her hand worked, stoking her arousal.

She wondered how intense Fleur's eyes would look in the heat of passion, if her breathing would become uneven or if she would make little noises of pleasure.

Hermione flew higher and higher, riding the pleasure until it reached a sweet crescendo.

Hermione trembled as her head fell back, her mouth falling open in a silent groan of satisfaction.

Almost as soon as she was done, she felt her face burn with embarrassment. She wasn't a _horny teenager._ She was Hermione Granger; the sensible and reasoned brains of her year. Hermione cringed, trying to push her actions to the back of her mind.

* * *

After a cold shower and an attempt at taming her curls, Hermione dressed and headed down to the Common Room. By the time she got down there, much of Gryffindor Tower had awoken. Harry and Ron were just finishing off cups of tea while waiting for Hermione for breakfast.

"So how was it?" Harry asked as Hermione walked up to them.

"How was what?!" Hermione replied, blushing.

"Finding clues on the egg," Harry replied slowly, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

"Oh… Right… Sorry, it was a long night," Hermione sighed, running a hand through her hair. She was exhausted and didn't feel like explaining the debacle of the previous night. "I found some possible ideas… But nothing very promising."

"Oh…" Harry replied, his face falling a little, "Well, I'm sure we'll find something."

The skinny raven-haired boy drained his tea and turned towards the portrait hole. Ron shot Hermione an incredulous look, as if he had expected more, before following Harry.

Hermione felt a pang of irritation. What did they expect? That she would stroll into the library and immediately find the answer to the puzzle? Sometimes she got annoyed that the boys relied on her so heavily to do the grunt work for them. She knew they didn't do it intentionally, but she was doing them a _favour_ by researching things for them and trying to figure out answers to their problems.

She frowned, following the boys out the portrait hole.

Hermione tried to shake her mood as they walked in a swarm of Gryffindors down to the Great Hall. She was feeling off-balance. She wasn't sure what it was exactly: the lack of sleep, the awkwardness over her suggestive dreams and morning self-pleasure, or her best friends taking her for granted.

Either way, she felt like the day was going to be a bit of a struggle.

As the Gryffindors made it into the Great Hall, Hermione felt a gentle tug at her elbow.

She turned around to a cluster of powder-blue silk uniforms and gorgeous girls. Julie had tugged at her arm, though Fleur was standing a little behind her. Fleur's face was aloof, but she was openly watching Hermione. The sight of the blonde made Hermione's heart leap into her throat.

"'Ermione," Julie greeted with a gentle smile.

"Erm, hey," Hermione stumbled over her words, trying to push the insistent memories of her dreams from her mind, "How are you feeling?"

"A little 'ungover," the tall brunette admitted with a sheepish grin, "I won't 'old you up from your breakfast. I just wanted to say zank you for 'elping me last night."

"It was nothing," Hermione said humbly, though her current level of exhaustion begged to differ.

Julie stepped forward, pulling Hermione into a tight hug and kissing her on her cheek. The unexpected close proximity of the girl suddenly brought Hermione's dreams sharply back into focus, and she blushed heavily. Julie was an attractive girl; she couldn't help it.

"I…Um… Er—I'll see you around," Hermione stammered, blushing horribly, as Julie released her. Fleur and Julie's friends tittered, obviously noting how flustered she had become.

Hermione, before dashing away in embarrassment, shot a quick look at Fleur. She had an unreadable expression on her face, but her eyes were stormy. Hermione didn't want to be too hopeful, but she almost thought that Fleur looked a little… _jealous._

"Blimey! What was all that about?" Ron asked, as Hermione dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table.

"Julie just wanted to thank me for a favour is all," Hermione mumbled, glad she could feel the heat in her face fading.

"First Fleur, now copping off with her girlfriend?" Ron exclaimed, his mouth hanging open as he ate, "You could at least introduce me to one of their friends!"

"Yeah, maybe some other time," Hermione said, fully distracted. The morning mail was fluttering in via a flurry of owls. Hermione was using the diversion to steal a glance at Fleur again. She looked so painfully beautiful in the morning light. Hermione wondered if things would improve enough soon for Fleur to resume speaking to her. At the very least, she had seemed conflicted the previous evening. She'd said she hadn't known _what_ to think about Hermione. Which was far better than writing her off as a bad person.

"Merlin, no," Harry groaned, unfurling his _Daily Prophet_.

"Another Skeeter hatchet job?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded with a frown, turning the paper to show Hermione and Ron the article.

" _Harry Potter Out of His Depth?_

_Harry Potter, 11, is the unlikely Fourth champion in this year's Triwizard Tournament. Unfortunately, it seems like his lack of age and experience may be the undoing of the Boy Who Lived._

_Sources in the castle report that Potter has no idea how to even start working out his Golden Egg clue, instead recruiting older and smarter students to try and help him. Could his tragic history have stunted his development? Read more about Potter's emotional struggles at page 8."_

Hermione diplomatically took a big spoonful of her cereal. Yes, it was unfair that Skeeter repeatedly portrayed Harry as a First Year, emotionally unstable and woefully inept. But, Harry getting others to try and work out the clue for him wasn't _that_ far off-base. Hermione _had_ just spent a long night cramming for him after his despair spurred her into helping.

Harry was an incredibly gifted and brave boy, but it would be foolish to think that he would even be alive if it wasn't for the help of his friends around him.

Harry was scowling, bemoaning the fact that Skeeter seemed to shave a year off his age each time she reported on him.

Hermione forced herself to nod along. Harry was a great friend, Hermione had to be sure not to let her frustrations at him overflow. Harry never sought out the situations that landed him in need of assistance. He never intended to take Hermione for granted.

Ginny dropped into the seat beside Hermione, immediately grabbing some toast. She glanced at the facial expressions of Harry, Ron and Hermione before looking at the newspaper in Harry's hands.

"Another less than flattering article?" Ginny surmised, cocking an eyebrow.

Hermione was relieved that Ginny had chilled out over the years. In her first and second years at Hogwarts, she had been so utterly besotted with Harry that she couldn't help but be a bashful mess in his presence.

Now, however, her crush had eased enough—or she had found a way to deal with it—that it didn't seem to stop her from being totally at ease around the group of friends.

Hermione had never really thought about it before. But after becoming a stammering mess in front of girls she'd had suggestive dreams about, she was curious as to how Ginny managed to get back her composure.

She briefly considered quietly broaching the subject with Ginny. But the embarrassment was too fresh and the Gryffindor table was too packed with people that would overhear. She filed the conversation in her mind for a later date.

"She just makes me sound so helpless!" Harry complained, folding up the paper violently and tossing it down on the table.

"Well, another article like that and mum's going to be catching the next train up to Hogwarts to look after you!" Ginny grinned.

"She doesn't really believe that rubbish that Skeeter writes, does she?" Hermione asked, surprised. It wasn't like Molly Weasley was an unintelligent woman.

Ron shook his head, frowning.

"She can't help it," Ginny sighed, "She's always been a sucker for a good gossip story."

Ginny gave up conversation at that point, wolfing down her toast as quickly as possible. She'd arrived late to the breakfast table and morning classes were due to start.

As the Gryffindors got up from the table and gathered their book bags, Hermione cast a subtle look over at the Beauxbatons sitting with the Ravenclaws. She was disappointed to see that Fleur had already left.

Hopefully she would have another run-in with Fleur that day that _didn't_ leave her embarrassed.

Harry, Ron and Hermione headed off through the hallways of Hogwarts to their first class of the day; Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was still early in the year, but Hermione wasn't sure she liked the direction that the classes were going in.

Professor Moody—commonly known as Mad-Eye Moody because of his wild magic glass eye—seemed totally unpredictable. Hermione couldn't quite feel settled in his class; almost as if he might do something bad at any moment. She'd shared her thoughts with the boys and they had somewhat agreed. Ron had explained to her and Harry that Mad-Eye had seen some very dark things in the last wizarding war and probably had some serious issues. He was known for flying off the handle and being eccentric.

Hermione didn't relish the class. She especially didn't enjoy that it was one of the classes the Gryffindors shared with the Slytherins.

If she had hoped that it was too early in the morning for the Slytherins to be awful, those hopes were very quickly dashed. No sooner had the trio lined up outside the classroom than Malfoy and his goons showed up, sporting _Potter Stinks_ badges.

Hermione rolled her eyes openly.

"Hey Potter," Malfoy sneered, "Saw your spread in the _Prophet_ this morning. Did the Weasel tuck you up in bed with a nightlight while Granger went to solve the puzzle for you?"

Harry instantly flushed with anger. Hermione supposed it was probably because it was a little close to the truth of what had happened the previous night – Ron reassuring him with a card game while Hermione went in search of clues at the library.

"Beats running to daddy whenever something upsets me at school," Harry retorted. Malfoy narrowed his icy blue eyes at Harry, scowling.

Another insult that would have hit a little close to home.

Harry and Draco Malfoy always knew exactly what buttons to push with each other. Often, Hermione found herself getting dragged into their fights and getting wound up too. But this morning, she was determined not to get baited. She stood a little bit to one side of the boys as they bickered, folding her arms in front of her chest.

"Granger," a sneering voice greeted.

Hermione felt a curious mix of dread, embarrassment and attraction as Pansy Parkinson sashayed in front of her.

Pansy was dressed impeccably as usual, her makeup freshly done and not a hair out of place. She had a hand on one hip and her skirt was short enough to show her long tanned legs.

"Uh—Um—W-What do you want?" Hermione asked, blushing. She couldn't _believe_ she had dreamt of _Pansy_ in such a way. Stupid embarrassing hormones. She couldn't push the memory of her dream out of her mind.

Pansy looked at her, sneer fading a little in favour of a look of puzzlement.

"What's your deal?" Pansy asked, suspicious.

"Nothing!" Hermione insisted, blushing more.

_'Stupid, stupid hormones…'_ Hermione inwardly cursed. Her brain knew that Pansy was a terrible person. If only it could pass that message on to her body and her goddamn raging hormones.

Pansy looked at her for a long time, seeming to size her up. Finally, she smirked again, her eyes seeming to gleam with mischief.

Right on cue, Moody flung the door of the classroom open.

The Slytherins and Gryffindors put their house rivalry aside just long enough to file into the classroom and select their seats.

Hermione, thankfully, got a seat in between Harry and Ron.

Moody shut the door firmly once everyone had their seats. He stood with his back to the class for a moment, uncharacteristically quiet.

Everything about the man was a little terrifying and unsettling. He had mad grey hair that ran wild over his head. As he turned to face them, his clawed false leg clunked on the classroom floor. His pale blue false eye whirled around madly in his head, seeming to look everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Gryffindor and Slytherin!" Moody unexpectedly bellowed, causing many in the room to jump in fright.

He paused for effect, lumbering his way across the room and back to his desk, his false leg clunking on the floor.

He came to a rest in front of his desk, turning to look at the class.

"A rivalry as well known as Cain and Abel," Moody continued in his rough voice.

Hermione wondered where on Earth he was going with this. In previous classes he had flung curses at the students to test their reflexes and defences.

"Perhaps the greatest defensive art to embody rivalry, is the art of duelling," Moody said gruffly, looking around the room to emphasize his point, "I'm interested in seeing how two of the most competitive houses in this school can handle that."

Harry, and several other students, were now leaning forward in their seats in interest.

"I want you to pair off with a member of the opposing Hogwarts house," Moody instructed, "The rest of the lesson will be spent duelling them."

Hermione raised her hand in the air immediately. She ignored some rolling eyes and judgmental looks from those who had fully expected her to raise a question.

"Yes?" Moody asked, fixing both his magical and regular eye on her.

Hermione almost shivered under his unsettling gaze.

"What are the rules, sir?" Hermione asked.

Moody bared his teeth suddenly, which shocked Hermione until she realised it was his form of a grin.

"No death," Moody replied.

"Anything else?" Hermione asked, her brow crinkling in confusion.

Moody shook his head. The Slytherins were instantly fascinated, beginning to mutter amongst themselves at the surprising lack of rules.

"Well, that confirms who I want to duel," Harry muttered under his breath.

Clearly on the same wavelength, Malfoy came and stood in front of Harry's desk, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

Ron got up, immediately going to seek out Crabbe or Goyle in the classroom.

Hermione wasn't sure who she would pick. She was thinking Blaise Zabini would be a good choice. He was the least offensive of the Slytherins and very intelligent. He would be a good test of Hermione's knowledge.

Unfortunately, as soon as she turned around, she realised everyone was pretty much paired up already—except for Pansy Parkinson, who was smirking at her.

Hermione groaned.

The classroom was a little small for the whole class to be duelling at once. This problem was quickly solved by Seamus Finnegan, in true form, blasting out the stone wall of the castle when trying to throw a jinx at Daphne Greengrass.

Mad Eye-Moody rolled with it without batting an eyelash, simply shrugging, saying he would mend it at the end of the class, and encouraging the students to continue their duelling outside.

So, that was how Hermione found herself stalking around one of the Hogwarts gardens, wondering how she had lost sight of Pansy Parkinson.

She'd thrown a clever spell at Parkinson, a swirling mist that would chill Pansy so much she would hopefully struggle to get her wand movements correct. Unfortunately, when the mist cleared, Pansy had disappeared.

Hermione cursed.

She could hear the other students not too far away, shouting out various defensive and offensive spells. She decided to walk towards the other students, thinking that enough time had passed that Pansy had probably just ditched her to mess with her.

Hermione started to walk towards the others, suddenly feeling something clutch around her ankle. Hermione fell heavily to the ground with a gasp.

She heard Pansy's laugh ring out.

"God _dammit_ , Pansy!" Hermione growled, rolling over.

Pansy had cast a charm on a nearby bush, causing its branch to curl out and grab Hermione around the ankle.

"Too easy," Pansy cackled.

She went to cast another spell at Hermione, but the Gryffindor was too fast. She rolled over quickly, dodging the spell beam. Quickly casting a _diffindo_ at her ankle to free her from the branch's grip, she leapt to her feet.

"You'll have to try better than that to beat me," Hermione retorted.

She flicked a spell at Pansy, one that whipped up the wind to slap an opponent.

It seemed to hit Pansy, as she doubled over, dropping her wand and clapping her hand to her cheek. But then she looked up at Hermione with a grin.

"I know why you were acting weird," Pansy taunted.

Hermione scowled.

"Whatever," Hermione replied defensively, " _Expelliarmus!_ "

The wand that Pansy had just picked up arced out of her hand and into the bushes nearby. Pansy frowned, looking put out, before setting her sights on Hermione.

Hermione didn't even have a chance to defend herself before Pansy tackled her to the ground, trying to wrestle her wand from her.

"Argh! Are you mental?!" Hermione exclaimed, trying to keep her wand out of Pansy's grasp. Pansy was on top of her, bright red lips grinning as she kept attempting to steal Hermione's wand.

"No rules, remember?" Pansy grinned.

"Go get your own wand!" Hermione snapped.

"I've seen that look before… The look on your face before class…" Pansy said between grunts, "On Crabbe and Goyle after I came back from last Summer holidays."

"I don't know what you're on about!" Hermione replied, trying to protect her wand and get out from under Pansy.

"You," Pansy replied, smirking as she grabbed Hermione's wand, "You just realised that I'm hot!"

"I have not!" Hermione snapped. But she felt her cheeks burning a little despite herself.

Pansy finally ripped the wand from her hands, leaping to her feet triumphantly.

Hermione got to her own feet, scowling at the dark-haired Slytherin.

"It's too early in the day for your bullshit," Hermione said waspishly.

Pansy smirked at her.

"The look on your face doesn't lie," Pansy grinned, "Oh, this is going to make beating you in this duel even more delicious."

Hermione glared at her.

Thankfully, mercifully, Mad-Eye Moody's voice boomed out amongst the grounds.

_"Fourth Year Students of my Defence Against the Dark Arts Class- please return to the classroom. The lesson is over."_

Pansy's grin dimmed a little bit.

"Right when I was so close, too," Pansy said with obvious disappointment, " _Accio Pansy Parkinson's wand._ "

Her own wand returned to her from the bushes. Pansy tossed Hermione's wand back at her before turning and walking back towards the classroom without another word.

Hermione glared at the back of the Slytherin's head as she followed her.

Pansy and Hermione had been highly competitive since their very first year at Hogwarts. They had been constantly trying to one-up each other. Fortunately, until the duel, Hermione had always come out on top.

Her classwork had always shown up Pansy's. Gryffindor had always managed to beat Slytherin in House Points. Heck, she even usually won when they traded barbs in the hallway!

Now, Hermione had not only been bested by Pansy in the no-rules duel; Pansy had completely called her out on her awkwardness.

"Bloody hormones," Hermione muttered darkly.

It was bad enough when she only had to deal with her crush on Fleur. But now she was noticing when other girls around the castle were attractive, it was really becoming irritating.

Pansy looked over her shoulder at Hermione, grinning as she spotted the thunderous look on Hermione's face.

"Enjoying the view?" Pansy teased with a wink.

Hermione scowled further.

* * *

Hermione couldn't quite bring herself to explain to Harry and Ron why she was in such a foul mood the rest of the day.

They just assumed she had endured a disastrous duel. They themselves had won their duels against their respective Slytherins and hadn't stopped crowing about it.

Hermione wished they would stop bringing up the cursed lesson, becoming more curt in her replies as the day went on.

Finally, when Ron outright asked her what had happened in her duel with Pansy, Hermione collected her books with a huff and stormed off to the library. She was overreacting, sure. But even the thought of Pansy smugness made her blood boil.

The library was relatively full of students. Hermione noticed with distaste that Viktor was studying by some windows, so half the female population of the castle seemed to have flocked to the tables around him.

Hermione just hoped her usual private spot in the library was still free.

Sure enough, as she rounded through the protective shelves of books that hid her spot, she found the table empty. Hermione threw herself into the seat, sighing heavily. She was dying for some solitude after the day she'd had.

"'Ello 'Ermione,"

Hermione almost groaned with tired frustration as Gabrielle popped out from behind a shelf.

"How are you allowed out after sneaking around last night?" Hermione asked, smiling despite herself. Gabrielle might be quite a pest at times, but she was still adorable.

"Non," Gabrielle answered with a faux-innocent smile, "My tutor and Madame Maxime never found out."

Hermione sighed, still smiling. Gabrielle was just full of trouble. The small blonde was smiling as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"Fleur didn't seem too happy with you, though," Hermione reminded.

Gabrielle's expression instantly clouded into sulkiness as she crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

"Oui, she is being _so_ overprotective," Gabrielle sulked, "She 'as barely let me out of 'er sight today."

Hermione barely had time to register what Gabrielle had said when the elder Delacour herself emerged from the shelves.

"Zere you are, Gaby," Fleur sighed, looking entirely impatient with her young sister. She looked up at Hermione, azure eyes locking with honey-flecked brown.

"Er, hi," Hermione said awkwardly. She couldn't read Fleur's mood.

**"Gabrielle, go look at your books some more, okay?"** Fleur said quietly to Gabrielle in French.

Gabrielle simply nodded obediently, obviously wary of her older sister. She tightened the straps of her backpack before bouncing off into the bookshelves.

Hermione swallowed nervously, now alone with Fleur.

Fleur was elegant in her reserved state. Her back was straight and her head held high, her white-blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders. She stepped a little closer to Hermione, her uniform silk blue skirt playing around her toned legs gently. She lifted her black leather book satchel, pulling out a small box with a ribbon bow on the top.

Hermione felt her stomach twist violently. Was Fleur giving her a gift?!

"Did you leave zese at ze Beauxbatons Carriage for me?" Fleur asked, placing the box on the table in front of Hermione and removing the bow-covered lid.

Hermione looked down, seeing that the small gift box was full of strawberries.

"Er, no?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow and looking up at Fleur in confusion, "Why would I have?"

Fleur's eyes turned stormy again and Hermione wished she was a Legimens. She was curious as to what Fleur was thinking.

"I zought…" Fleur paused and sighed, "A younger student said an 'Ogwarts girl dropped zem off for me. It is not common knowledge zat Veela are especially partial to strawberries. I zought…"

Hermione frowned. Fleur must be afraid she had resumed researching her.

"I threw away everything I had on Veela," Hermione said firmly, "I promise you, I won't be doing anything like that again."

An unreadable expression crossed Fleur's expression in an instant again. She simply nodded, placing the lid back on the box and putting it back in her satchel again.

Fleur turned and began to walk away.

Hermione furrowed her brow, wondering what it all meant. Did Fleur believe her? Who _did_ send the strawberries to Fleur? Was another Hogwarts girl crushing on Fleur?

Fleur seemed to think twice about walking away, halting in her steps and turning back to Hermione. She bit her plump lower lip.

Hermione looked up at her, curious.

"You, ah… You blushed when Julie 'ugged you at breakfast," Fleur commented.

"Er, did I?" Hermione asked, rubbing the back of her neck, embarrassed.

"Why?" Fleur asked. She looked like she was torn between waiting for Hermione's answer and simply walking away.

"I…" Hermione wondered how to answer that honestly without sounding like a creep.

_'Well, Fleur, because I'm a horny teenager who gets flustered when_ any _hot girl hugs me unexpectedly right now,'_ somehow didn't sound right.

"Do you like 'er?" Fleur asked, her blue eyes dropping to the rug-covered floor of the library. She was acting uninterested, but the tone in her voice made Hermione feel like she really needed an answer from her.

"I… She's actually a really lovely girl," Hermione said, playing with her hands, "I do like her, but just as a friend. I don't have feeling for her or anything."

Fleur nodded, a slight smile appearing on her lips before disappearing again.

"Bon," Fleur said, nodding again before turning on her heel and walking away into the bookshelves.

Hermione sighed, looking at her hands, confused. Was Fleur jealous? If so, was she possessive of her friend that she had fooled around with in the past or of Hermione moving on? And _who_ sent Fleur the strawberries?

Hermione shook her head. This was exactly the kind of girl-crazy distraction that had screwed her up in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She needed to push girls out of her mind and focus on more important things going on.

She needed to find out what the Golden Egg meant.

She needed to find out who had put Harry's name in the goblet.

She needed to put her own trivial worries to one side and focus on helping Harry out of another dangerous situation.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hermione, you're a genius, but when it comes to girls, you're denser than Ron,"

Hermione frowned at Ginny, entirely annoyed at being compared to her brother.

"I am not," Hermione sniffed, taking a swig from her butterbeer.

It had been another couple of weeks since her run in with Fleur and the strawberries. Hermione hadn't had much time to dwell on it, spending all of her time not in class trying to work out the Golden Egg for Harry.

Ginny, a little concerned at Hermione being even more intense than usual with her study, had invited her out for a drink at the next Hogsmeade weekend.

Hermione, feeling close to burnout, had begrudgingly accepted without too much pressuring on Ginny's part.

The weather was terrible, skies so dark the afternoon appeared like late evening. Rain poured down heavily from the skies and cold winds whipped mercilessly through rugged up crowds of students.

Hermione and Ginny had selected a seat in the Three Broomsticks that was in a cosy corner, but right beside the window. The windows were so fogged up against the cold outside that they couldn't see anything other than the rain battering the panes of glass.

It had taken a couple of patient rounds of butterbeers, but Ginny had finally got Hermione to talk to her about what was on her mind. Hermione had told the redhead about the night she had helped Julie and Gabrielle back to the carriage, as well as Fleur coming to ask her about the strawberries in the library. Somehow it felt easier talking to Ginny about her crush on Fleur than it did talking to Harry and Ron.

Although, she was quite put out at being called dense.

Ginny laughed, taking a sip from her own butterbeer.

"Hermione, she obviously still likes you," Ginny said, shaking her head.

Hermione frowned.

"You think?" Hermione asked, "I wouldn't think she could ever see me the same way after I ran that research project on her."

Ginny laughed lightly, running a hand through her long red locks.

"Jesus, 'Mione," Ginny chuckled, "It's so obvious. She's clearly torn about the whole thing. Telling you she _doesn't know what to think?_ Asking you if you like Julie? That screams of a girl that has feelings but doesn't know if she can act on them."

"You really think so?" Hermione asked, leaning forward at the table. She felt hopeful for a moment, before shaking her head, "There's just no way she can get past what I did, though. Besides, I need to focus on this Golden Egg clue."

Ginny sighed.

"Really, Hermione? It's Harry's challenge. He can work it out himself. You haven't had a life outside classes and studying his Egg for weeks!" Ginny exclaimed, "Harry and Ron make time to play around and have lives, you need to do the same. You can't just pick up the slack forever."

Hermione frowned.

"If I don't do it, who will, Gin?" Hermione challenged, taking a big gulp of her butterbeer.

She thought it was a bit unfair for Ginny to say that.

"It's Harry's challenge," Ginny repeated, "And you know as well as I do that if he was observant enough to notice how much you're burning yourself out, he would be saying the same thing."

"It's fine," Hermione said defensively, "Besides, I _really_ need the distraction," Hermione added in a mumble.

"You need a distraction?" Ginny asked, furrowing her brow, "Are you okay, 'Mione?"

Hermione picked at the label on her butterbeer, ducking her head. She was a little embarrassed.

"Hermione, something is bothering you, just come out with it," Ginny insisted, shuffling her chair closer to the brunette.

Hermione shook her head, peeling the corner of the label off the butterbeer bottle.

"Hermione, if you don't tell me what's going on, I swear to Merlin—"

"I'm a horny mess!" Hermione blurted loudly.

Heads turned to look at their table, several amused faces amongst them. Hermione blushed deep red, hunching her shoulders and leaning forward on the table in embarrassment.

Ginny, noticeably holding back a laugh, bit her lip.

"Hermione… Wow…" Ginny replied, "What, er, what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Oh jeez," Hermione, reddened and feeling entirely too warm, tried to pull her curls to curtain her face, "I just… I feel like I'm going crazy. Every time an attractive girl gets too close my brain just turns to mush. Every time I fall asleep, I dream about girls. I feel like a gay version of Lavender, for Pete's sake!"

Ginny actually giggled this time.

"Hermione, lots of teenagers feel like that," Ginny replied. It was funny how for once the younger girl was the one lecturing _Hermione_ on something that the brunette was clueless about.

"Well how do I fix it?" Hermione hissed, looking up at Ginny with a quiet desperation.

"I dunno," Ginny shrugged, "Get better at hiding it or find a way to get rid of the frustration before you hit breaking point."

"A way to get rid of the frustration?" Hermione echoed, cocking her head to one side with confusion.

Ginny grinned, raising a hand and waving her fingers. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

" _Ginerva Weasley!_ " Hermione gasped, scandalised.

Ginny suggesting she pleasure herself like some out of control teen boy?! She was Hermione Granger! She still felt guilty about pleasuring herself to the thought of Fleur the other morning.

"Everyone does it," Ginny shrugged, returning to her drink, "Or, you know, you could just find a girl to get with that isn't _Fleur._ "

She'd said the blonde's name with such disgust, Hermione was so surprised that she entirely forgot the indignity of Ginny suggesting she masturbate.

"What's wrong with Fleur?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"I mean, I get that you see some _other side_ of her or whatever, but she's kind of… Kind of a bitch, Hermione," Ginny said, shrugging again.

Hermione frowned.

"She's more complex than that," Hermione defended.

"Oh come off it, Hermione," Ginny sighed, "I've been avoiding bringing it up because you seemed so disappointed at striking out with her… But you kind of dodged a bullet. She just swans around the castle like she owns the place! Complaining, judging people, being mean to anyone who talks to her—"

"Anyone who tries to grope her or ask her out!" Hermione defended.

"Hermione," Ginny said, leaning back in her chair in disbelief, "Do you really think you would be giving her a pass on her behaviour if she wasn't hot?"

"Ginny!" Hermione growled, "That's what I'm trying to say to you! She's more than just a pretty face! Everyone writes her off as being hot or mean… There's more to her below the surface. She's just guarded because everyone judges her for her looks or is trying to get something from her."

"I think these hormones are getting to you…" Ginny mumbled, rolling her eyes.

"Ugh! That's it!" Hermione said, slamming down her beer. This time she didn't care that people were looking over, "Ginny, I'm not going to have you talking about her like that."

Hermione stood up, temper flaring. Ginny opened her mouth to say something, before thinking better of it, closing her mouth again.

Hermione tossed a couple of coins on the table to cover her drink before grabbing her cloak and heading out the door.

She was annoyed. She had hoped that opening up to Ginny would make her feel better about everything going on. Instead, it had just made things worse. She was feeling protective of Fleur again.

She pulled the hood of her cloak up against the rain, hunching her shoulders as thunder pealed out. She had cast a charm on her cloak to repel the rain from it, but it didn't make the weather any less unpleasant. Hermione shivered and weaved around the clusters of students huddling together to keep warm or head to the shops.

She wanted nothing more than to get back to the warmth of the Gryffindor Common Room right now. She needed a cup of tea and a good book to take her mind off things.

Hermione was not surprised that she didn't see many Beauxbatons students on her way back to the castle. Their wardrobes hardly seemed adequate for the cold.

That being said, Fleur looked _amazing_ in her short silk uniform. The way it hugged her curves…

"Granger!" a gruff voice bellowed out.

Hermione had just got back onto the Hogwarts grounds. The rain was so heavy and sky so dark that Hermione couldn't quite work out who it was that had called out to her. She walked over to the figure.

Lightning lit up the sky with a loud peal of thunder. Hermione held back a yelp as the face of Mad-Eye Moody was illuminated by the lightning. The lightning highlighted the chunks missing from his haggard face. His magic eye was swirling wildly in his head.

"Er, Professor?" Hermione asked, raising her voice a little to be heard over the weather.

"Has Potter worked out the Egg yet?" Moody growled. He sounded almost irritated.

"Er, no," Hermione replied, "But I'll help him."

"Bloody hell, he's had it for weeks now," Moody commented darkly. Hermione was surprised by his reaction. The Second Task due for a while yet.

"Well… He's been trying," Hermione tried to defend Harry, "We all have."

Moody frowned deeply, his mouth looking like a deep gash in his face.

Thunder and lightning rumbled again.

"Tell him…" thunder drowned out the last part of Moody's sentence.

"Pardon, Professor?" Hermione asked. The infamous Auror was seriously creeping her out. She just wanted to wrap up the conversation and get the hell back to the castle.

"Tell him to take a bath with it," Moody growled, "Mull it over."

"Take… A bath…?" Hermione's face contorted with confusion. Should she be reporting this?

"You're a smart girl, Granger," Moody rumbled, "You'll work it out."

"Are you…" Hermione wasn't sure exactly how to word it, "Is this against the rules?"

"Dunno what you're talking about," Moody growled. He tugged his cloak tighter around himself before limping away into the stormy weather.

* * *

Hermione's mood had worsened by the evening.

The assignments were quite heavy at Hogwarts and after Hogsmeade, most students had retreated to the library to study. Even Hermione's usually abandoned secret spot in the library was taken.

So she was sitting at a table crammed amongst other tables, distracted by constant murmuring and talking from other tables. Not to mention Harry and Ron bugging her constantly on what to put in their Potions essay.

"I _told_ you," Hermione told the boys waspishly, "If you just go through your class notes and the textbook, you'll find more than enough for your own essay."

"Yeah, but _where_?!" Ron whined, looking at his open textbook helplessly.

Hermione tuned him out, her brown eyes caught on a table not too far from theirs. Her eyes widened slightly with surprise, before narrowing suspiciously.

"Earth to 'Mione?" Ron waved his hand at her, but Hermione swatted it away.

Pansy Parkinson was sitting at a table with Fleur Delacour, leaning in closely to her and pointing at something in a textbook. Pansy was preened to perfection, her silky dark bob framing her face prettily. Her blood-red lips were sounding out something slowly for Fleur.

Hermione felt a horrible twist in her stomach, like a lead had been dropped in there and bounced around.

"Be right back," Hermione muttered to the boys.

She got up, stalking over to the table Pansy was at without even thinking. She found herself towering over the girls, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

Pansy looked up, a large smirk affixing itself to her face as she took in Hermione's expression.

"Can we help you, Granger?" Pansy asked with fake sweetness.

Fleur raised her eyes from the book in front of her, azure eyes settling on Hermione with that strange intensity they had. Hermione felt her stomach wobble again. Hermione turned her gaze back to the infuriating Slytherin.

"If you're just here to check me out again, you can do that in Potions next week," Pansy added when Hermione still hadn't said anything, her smirk growing as she needled the Gryffindor.

Hermione blushed darkly, even more annoyed at Parkinson.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, forcing her voice to stay even.

Pansy snorted.

"What does it look like? I'm helping Delacour study," Pansy said, throwing an arm behind Fleur's chair. Fleur was still watching Hermione with her impossibly unreadable expression.

Hermione felt her jaw tense. What was Parkinson playing at? Pansy and her Slytherin cronies hated anyone that wasn't pureblooded. Was she just doing this as another way to get under Hermione's skin?!

"You don't have any classes together," Hermione replied in her forced even voice.

"Pansy 'ere volunteered to 'elp me wiz my English," Fleur explained, cocking her head to one side. She was watching Hermione curiously now.

"Your English… Your English is fine…" Hermione managed, swallowing heavily. Fleur looked so damned cute when she cocked her head to one side like that.

Fleur smiled very slightly.

"Zank you for saying so," Fleur said politely, "But my English skills leave a lot to be desired. Okay, Pansy—I 'ave reached my limit for study for ze day. I need to go and relax. Merci, Pansy. We should do zis again."

Fleur closed the book in front of her, slipping it into her satchel. She stood up, smoothing down her clothes.

Hermione felt her mouth go dry. Fleur was wearing a knit jumper and some tight black jeans. Hermione hadn't seen her look so casual before. It was… Surprisingly hot. Hermione wanted nothing more than to grab the Frenchwoman by the belt-buckle and yank her towards her, pulling her into a passionate kiss.

She bit her lip, trying to quell her over-active imagination.

Fleur slipped her satchel over her shoulder, leaning in and kissing Pansy quickly on each cheek.

Pansy shot Hermione a look like the cat that got the cream.

Hermione nodded politely at Fleur as the blonde glided away, before quickly slipping into the chair beside Pansy and openly glowering at her.

"Cut the crap, Parkinson," Hermione growled, "You and I both know your gang wouldn't be caught dead with someone that wasn't pureblooded. What are you up to?"

Pansy chuckled.

"Awfully possessive of someone that doesn't even want to be your friend, Granger," Pansy replied imperiously, "I'm just helping Delacour get those great grades she deserves."

"You don't care about her grades!" Hermione retorted, "You said at detention you think she's nothing but a 'hot piece of ass!'"

Pansy grinned.

"I think you're just jealous," Pansy sneered. She leaned right into Hermione's personal space, close enough that Hermione could feel her breath brushing her lips. She felt a fire burn within her at the challenge from her rival.

"I'm not jealous," Hermione said between gritted teeth. She was trying not to get flustered by how close Pansy was to her. She had an idea that Pansy was using Hermione's awkwardness to get an upper hand in their constant competiveness.

Pansy smiled wider, sighing dramatically.

"You know, I think you were right," Pansy said lightly, "I think I _do_ have a thing for Delacour."

Hermione smiled triumphantly, before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Pansy would never voluntarily admit that Hermione was right. Not unless she was about to use it to get right back at Hermione.

"You do, do you?" Hermione replied, her eyes locked with Pansy's. Her rival's gaze didn't waver, continuing to challenge her.

"She's really quite cute, don't you think?" Pansy smirked, "And, now you've put her off Gryffindor girls, I probably have a decent shot."

Hermione gritted her teeth, trying not to let Pansy crawl under her skin.

"You don't like part-Creatures," Hermione replied in a low hiss.

"I could make an exception," Pansy smiled wider, leaning in even closer to Hermione, "Besides… Given she's a creature, I have another reason to get her into a collar in the bedroom. Wouldn't that be hot?"

Pansy and Hermione's faces were now a mere hairs-breadth apart.

Hermione slammed her hand on the table, leaning back and cursing. Pansy had got under her skin and the Slytherin knew it.

"Stay away from her," Hermione growled.

"She's not yours," Pansy replied in a mocking sing-song voice, "If she wants to seek me out, she can."

Hermione ground her teeth, marching away from Pansy before she could give the Slytherin the satisfaction of further reaction.

She went and returned to her table with Harry and Ron. She needed a distraction, stat.

"Were you just about to snog Pansy Parkinson?" Ron asked, looking at Hermione like she was mad.

"The opposite," Hermione growled, "Harry, were you planning on following up that clue from Moody today?"

"Erm, not really," Harry mumbled guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck, "I dunno…The Champions all got given the password for the Prefect's bathrooms on Seventh Floor at the start of the tournament in case we need some downtime, but… I feel like a bit of a git taking a bath with a giant golden egg."

"Let me do it," Hermione said, putting out a hand, "I need a distraction. Right now."

"Oh, are you sure, 'Mione?" Harry asked, although he was already fishing the egg out from his backpack. He handed it to her, placing it heavily in her hand. He scribbled down the password on a scrap of parchment, passing it to the brunette.

"I'm bloody sure," Hermione replied, taking the egg and slipping it into her satchel. She stormed out of the library without looking at Pansy's table.

* * *

"Bloody Ginny, bloody Pansy, bloody hormones," Hermione cursed darkly under her breath. She was wearing a fluffy scarlet and gold robe, heading to the Seventh Floor bathroom.

An ugly gargoyle was on guard at the door.

"Minty Fresh," Hermione told the gargoyle, who obediently stepped aside to let Hermione in.

Hermione was so wound up she was actually quite looking forward to a bath. The dormitories only had showers. Back home at her parents' house, she used to love taking baths after a long day. After cramming for a test, or school bullies being a bit much… It never failed to calm and soothe her.

As she stepped into a small alcove, Hermione saw there was a door for the girls' bathrooms and one for the boys'. She went to the girls' one, noticing straight away that the air was filled a sweet smell.

Hermione looked around, taking in the view. The room was a cavernous marble room, unlike most of the other rooms in Hogwarts that were made of stone. There were toilet stalls over on the far end of the room. The rest of the room was large and open. There were a few polished benches around the edges of the room. The air was warm and steamy, already relaxing Hermione's shoulders.

In the centre of the room, showcased in all its brilliance, was a large bath the size of a small pool, or an overly large hot tub. It was set into the floor of the bathroom. It was lined with an outrageous number of taps, all differing in their sizes and appearances. Some were small, with plain handles on them. Some were large and golden, set with large gemstones as their handles.

Hermione smiled lightly, stepping over to a bench and tossing her satchel on it. She stretched her neck with a sigh, feeling it click. She knew her muscles were beyond tense. She glanced over at the bath. It was already full of bubbly water, steaming invitingly. Hermione wondered if the room was enchanted to already have a full tub when a guest walked in.

She disrobed eagerly, folding her clothes neatly on the bench. Naked, Hermione rolled her shoulders. She glanced over at the door to the bathrooms. It was selfish, but she really didn't feel like sharing the bathroom while she relaxed. The last thing she needed when she was this wound up was a bunch of people barging in and loudly talking. Hermione picked up her wand from its place—neatly on top of her clothes. She swiftly cast a locking charm on the door, smiling to herself as she tossed her wand back on her pile of clothes.

Hermione heard splashing from the pool, turning back to it curiously. The bubbles were bouncing around.

 _Must be the magic of it all,_ Hermione thought to herself. She picked up the Golden Egg.

Hermione rolled her tense shoulders again, walking slowly towards the large bath. It was practically glowing. It looked so inviting.

Hermione placed the Golden Egg at the edge of the bath. She then dropped to her haunches, dipping a cautionary finger into the water.

_Perfect._

Hermione slipped herself swiftly into the bath, feet first. It was luxury.

The bath was the _perfect_ temperature and whatever concoctions were in the water soothed her skin.

Hermione let out a pleased sigh, leaning her head against the edge of the bath.

The stresses of the day were already beginning to melt away.

_SPE-LASH!_

Hermione screamed, a jolt of fear constricting her previously relaxed body.

A long mane of wet hair had flipped out of the water.

Hermione's heart was hammering in her chest. She gasped for breath as she slowly processed the bright blue eyes blinking across from her.

Fleur Delacour had emerged from the water, like Aphrodite herself. She ran her hands through her wet hair, smoothing it back from her face. She didn't seem to react to Hermione's presence in the bath. Or maybe she did… She had such an infuriatingly unreadable face.

"Wh-what are you doing here?!" Hermione stammered, pulling bubbles more closely around herself. She didn't want Fleur to see anything.

"What are _you_ doing 'ere?" Fleur asked, cocking her head to one side, "You are not in ze Tournament, nor a Prefect."

Even though Hermione couldn't see anything other than the top of Fleur's bare shoulders and her head, the brunette felt a blush creep across her neck and face.

"I, er, needed to relax," Hermione replied, "Tense day. Plus, I thought I could have a go trying to work out the Golden Egg."

"Oh," Fleur replied, a slight smile on her face, "Me too."

She ducked under the water again without warning, emerging again soon after, holding up her own Golden Egg.

She placed it beside the edge of the bath, similar to how Hermione had placed Harry's.

Hermione knew she should pry a little into why Fleur had left her egg on the bottom of the bath… It was likely the key to unlocking the puzzle. But she couldn't help herself.

"You really shouldn't hang out with Pansy, you know," Hermione cautioned Fleur, "Her and all her friends are pure-blood supremacists."

Fleur's eyebrows raised.

"Really," Fleur replied, "She seemed so 'elpful."

"Really," Hermione confirmed with a frown. She could almost feel her jaw tensing again at the memory of how Pansy spoke of Fleur, "The way she talks about you behind your back… She doesn't see you like an equal."

Fleur's eyebrows raised further.

"Hmm… Someone 'oo seems friendly and nice to my face but 'as ulterior motives? 'Oo is secretly treating me differently because of my blood? Sounds familiar," Fleur said darkly. Her bright blue gaze had an edge to it now. Hermione could tell she wasn't quite forgiven for her research yet.

"I… You know I'm sorry about all that," Hermione muttered, averting her gaze for a moment, "But I wouldn't lie to you about this."

"Why wouldn't you?" Fleur countered, "It is not like we are friends zese days."

That one stung a little. Hermione had let her hopes rise with Fleur's thawing towards her.

"We aren't friends," Hermione conceded, "But we're _something_ , right? I don't want you to get hurt."

Fleur seemed to consider Hermione's words.

"We are… _somezing_ I suppose," Fleur muttered, so quietly Hermione could barely hear the words.

Hermione felt the relaxing pull of the bathwater. She rolled her shoulders again and leaned back against the bath. Despite her body relaxing, her stomach still felt wobbly under the intense azure gaze of Fleur.

"So… You really do not want me becoming closer wiz Pansy?" Fleur asked, her tone carefully neutral. Hermione looked up, Fleur had averted her gaze momentarily.

Hermione's mouth went dry as she allowed herself to fully gaze on Fleur. Her platinum blonde hair was wet and though she had slicked it back, strands were beginning to fall loose around her face. Her high cheekbones were illuminated in the soft lighting of the bathroom. Hermione's eyes roamed freely, admiring Fleur's devastating jawline, her delicate collarbones and her creamy skin. She truly was beautiful. She always was. But in rare moments like this, Hermione got to see the delicate and vulnerable side of Fleur's beauty.

The almost shy way that the proud girl was looking away made Hermione think yet again that perhaps Fleur did still harbour some kind of feelings for her. She might still be getting over what Hermione had done, but clearly there was _something_ still there.

Hermione felt her jaw slacken as Fleur readjusted her posture, the bubbly water slipping down briefly to show a hint of cleavage.

The brunette cleared her throat.

"Er… Yeah—I mean, no—I mean… I don't like the idea of you letting her close," Hermione replied awkwardly. She could feel her blush getting worse.

Fleur simply nodded. Hermione inwardly squirmed. Could she at least betray a _shred_ of what she was thinking?!

Hermione felt her stomach jolt as Fleur's eyes returned to hers. She wondered if Fleur could feel the tension that she could. It felt so palpable.

Hermione tried to focus. Something about Fleur made her usually sharp mind turn to mush. She should be asking Fleur about the Golden Egg.

"Why are you so guarded?" Hermione asked, "You snap at anyone new who tries to get close to you. You don't seem to forgive easily. You're so incredibly protective of Gabrielle. Did something happen to you?"

Hermione watched, fascinated, as she could almost physically see the wall of ice descend in front of Fleur. The blonde's stature changed, becoming more rigid. Her shoulders pulled back and her back straightened.

Hermione inwardly wondered if she should have just let sleeping dogs lie.

But her desire to know more about the guarded Frenchwoman was overpowering.

Fleur stared her down with such an icy stare it would make Hell freeze over. But as the seconds passed slowly, Fleur's expression finally softened a little as she evidently deemed Hermione not to be a threat.

"Do you know what it is like to go zrough life never knowing ze true reason why someone is being nice to you?" Fleur asked coldly.

Hermione frowned. She didn't. Truthfully, Hermione had been bullied for almost all of her schooling, so really, she didn't know what it was like to go through life with that many people being nice to her at all.

"Err, no," Hermione answered honestly.

Fleur's eyes narrowed as she looked away. She seemed bitter on the subject.

"Do you know what it is like when people pursue you mercilessly? Sometimes wiz ze worst of intentions?" Fleur asked, her voice was even colder and quieter.

Hermione felt a chill down her spine. Fleur's face was finally betraying emotion, but it was a pain that made Hermione's chest ache.

"What… What intentions?" Hermione asked, her voice hoarse.

"To use me as a conquest… To use me to social climb amongst French society," Fleur said bitterly. Her eyes finally flicked back up to meet Hermione's. They seemed so stormy and swirled with emotion as she spoke her next words, "To hurt me."

"Fleur!" Hermione's heart was breaking at the pure, vulnerable pain on Fleur's face. She pushed off from the wall of the small pool, not even thinking. She swept across the bath, pulling Fleur into her arms for a tight embrace.

The blonde went rigid in her arms before relaxing a little as Hermione stroked her hair.

"I hope you know that I would never hurt you," Hermione said softly, "And I would never let anyone hurt you. Not you or Gabrielle."

"You don't know us," Fleur said defensively.

"Maybe not… But I want to," Hermione said. She suddenly processed that she was, in fact, clutching an awkward and naked Fleur Delacour to her own nude form. She blushed darkly and released Fleur from her arms. But she remained standing in front of Fleur in the bath. At least the bath was deep enough and bubbly enough that Fleur still could not see anything more than Hermione's shoulder tops.

Hermione avoided looking at Fleur directly for a moment, inwardly willing her blush to subside. But as the blonde cleared her throat awkwardly, she looked up again.

Hermione was surprised to see that Fleur herself had a slight blush prettily dusting her features.

Hermione swallowed heavily as Fleur's eyes locked with hers once more.

Hermione could feel the tension between them again, stronger than ever. Fleur's pupils seemed bigger than usual and it seemed like she was edging closer.

Hermione swallowed again. Her gaze dropped from Fleur's intense gaze down to her plump pink lips. It was unfair for someone to be this attractive.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to close the last of the gap and kiss Fleur. But she could hardly do that after Fleur just opened up to her about people using her. Hermione froze, inhaling sharply.

"I… Uh… I should go," Fleur said uncomfortably.

Hermione nodded, swallowing heavily again. She turned her back to Fleur to allow the blonde privacy to get out of the bath.

Well, to allow Fleur privacy and to help ease her own hormones. Since hugging Fleur in the bath, Hermione's mind was suddenly kicking into overdrive. There was not a doubt in her mind that she would be replaying that particular sensation while touching herself later. _Stupid hormones._ Hermione blushed like an idiot.

"'Ermione… I…" Fleur said from somewhere behind Hermione. Hermione heard the noise of Fleur's satchel buckles and deemed it safe enough to turn around. Sure enough, Fleur was back in her uniform already, hair damp and loose around her shoulders.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, before sinking down further in the bubbles. Maybe if she covered up some of her face in bubbles, then Fleur wouldn't even notice her blush.

Fleur sighed.

"I don't know what to make of you," Fleur said, shaking her head, "After what you did… But then you… I don't know what to zink of you 'Ermione Granger."

"I… I really like you, Fleur," Hermione confessed from amongst the bubbles, cursing her blush.

Fleur bit her lip, averting her eyes for a moment as she fiddled with the strap on her satchel.

"I really do 'ave to go," Fleur said quickly, nodding at Hermione politely before sweeping from the room.

Hermione didn't turn around, cringing as Fleur struggled with the door before rattling off a quick unlocking charm.

Only when she heard the bathroom door open and shut properly, did Hermione let herself exhale.

"Cripes, do I _always_ have to say the stupidest stuff to her?!" Hermione groaned.

She turned around in the water, kicking against the floor of the bath to propel herself over to where Harry's Golden Egg was waiting. She should really try to work it out, but her head was a mess after her latest interaction with Fleur.

She soaked in the bath instead, floating on her back. There was an amazing stained glass window on one of the walls with a scene of mermaids and rocks. It reminded Hermione of the ancient myths of Sirens.

It had been pretty obvious that she had a crush on Fleur. The whole school already knew it. But somehow it felt even more scary to put it into words to the blonde.

Hermione was still reeling from Fleur opening up enough to tell her that her whole life she'd faced people using her for their own ulterior motives. It made Hermione feel even worse about her hidden research project. She'd already known it had hurt Fleur, but now she knew it had hurt Fleur in a really sore spot. It was no wonder Fleur was having a hard time letting it go.

Hermione sighed, watching the stained glass mermaid flip her tail.

Maybe it didn't matter how many good things she did. Maybe Fleur would never be able to get past it. A lifetime of people trying to use or hurt her must have left a lot of scars.

Hermione's mind kept drifting back to her knee-jerk move to soothe Fleur. Fleur was a powerful witch, but her form was so small and delicate. It made Hermione feel so good to hold her in her arms tightly. Not to mention the feeling of Fleur's incredible body pressed against hers… Fleur was toned and curved in all the best places.

Hermione had never before felt such a horrible mix of arousal and heartbreak at the same time. _Stupid hormones._

Hermione let her mind turn to how differently that moment could have gone. She could have kept stroking Fleur's hair until she relaxed even further into her arms. Cupped Fleur's face and stared deep into those pained blue eyes. Leaned in and kissed Fleur's pain away. The feeling of those soft, full lips against hers…

 _I'm a terrible person…_ Hermione thought to herself, allowing her hand to drift south to the now painful throb between her legs.

She imagined pushing her tongue into Fleur's mouth as her hand began to work.

"Why does everyone do that when they're alone in here?" a spooky and mournful voice called out.

Hermione jolted upright immediately, wrenching her hand away from her nether regions and hastily pulling bubbles around herself.

Moaning Myrtle floated through a wall and hovered upside down above the bath. If Hermione had blushed deeply before, it was nothing on how red her face was now. She couldn't believe the most annoying ghost in the castle had just caught her having some _alone time_ in a bathroom.

"Oh, you don't need to stop on my account," Myrtle giggled, rolling over in mid-air and propping her face up on her hands. She kicked her legs up behind her in a girlish way.

"I'm, er, pretty sure I do," Hermione muttered, trying to avoid looking at Myrtle. She was suddenly ready to end her bath and head back to the dormitory.

"How's your friend Harry Potter doing?" Myrtle asked with a sigh, "Is that who you were thinking about when you were touching yourself just now?"

"Harry?! God no!" Hermione yelped, embarrassed.

Myrtle scowled at her.

"You could do a lot worse than Harry Potter," Myrtle chided, "You know, you guys never come to see me anymore."

Hermione hid her awkward frown.

"I… Uh… I should go," Hermione muttered, "Do you mind, er, looking away?"

"Why would I look away?" Myrtle asked, "We're both girls here."

Hermione groaned, realising Myrtle wasn't about to leave her alone until she left the room.

"Fine," Hermione sighed, hoisting herself out of the bath. She picked up the Golden Egg and walked over to the bench with her clothes to towel off and re-dress.

"Wow… Harry's a lucky boy," Myrtle teased.

Hermione ignored her, though she could feel the tips of her ears redden.

* * *

It was late by the time Hermione skulked back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Her mind was still full of Fleur—her pain, her conflicted attitude towards Hermione, and more distractingly… The feeling of her warm and nude form held tightly against Hermione's body.

Hermione didn't even notice anyone else in the room until she heard her name being called out.

Looking up, she saw Harry and Ron in a couch beside the Common Room fireplace, waving her over.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to head up to her room and finish off what Myrtle had horrifically interrupted earlier. She was still a confused and frustrated mess after the events in the bathroom.

Hermione sighed, heading over to the couch and sitting in an armchair opposite the boys.

"How did it go with the egg?" Harry asked hopefully, looking at Hermione.

"Oh… The egg…" Hermione responded, her brain suddenly kicking in again and remembering the original intent of her trip to the bathroom, "I, uh… I took it to the bathroom but I kind of got distracted."

"You? Distracted?" Ron questioned, scrunching his face up, baffled.

"Fleur was there," Hermione explained, earning a nod of understanding from the similarly hormonal Ron, "She was working on her egg."

"Her egg? What did she do with hers?" Harry asked eagerly, leaning forward in his seat.

"I dunno, she had it under the water and she was under the water with it," Hermione responded quickly, "I didn't really get to that, we got talking –"

"Sorry, you didn't get to that?!" Harry responded, looking stressed, "You practically had the solution right in front of you and you didn't work it out? I'm in a competition that could literally kill me and you decided _now_ to slack off on work?!"

"Harry, it wasn't like that, you see, Fleur—"

"Fleur, Fleur, Fleur!" Harry snapped, "It's all you bloody think about! You were close-ish with her for like what? A couple of weeks at the start of the school year? Let it go, Hermione! It isn't going to happen! I can't _believe_ you would let me down like this!"

Hermione was shocked.

"Relax! You still have heaps of time!" Hermione responded, "We're most of the way there!"

Ron was looking in between Harry and Hermione in bewilderment. He was evidently used to being the one that was involved in shouting arguments with either one of the friends. He'd never seen Harry and Hermione argue with each other before.

"Most of the way there?!" Harry bellowed. People in the Common Room were beginning to stare now. "We would be _all_ of the way there if you hadn't let me down tonight! All for a stupid girl! You're not the Hermione that I know anymore!"

Hermione paused, taken aback.

"Not the Hermione you know anymore?" Hermione replied in a hushed tone, her eyes narrowing, "As in, not the Hermione that does all your work for you? That makes sure you pass all your classes and gets through the school year in one piece? While _you_ are allowed to go around being distracted by stupid conspiracy theories and girls? You're a selfish jerk, Harry Potter. It's not solely my responsibility to get you through the Tournament. You're the Champion, not me."

Her last line seemed to touch an already weary nerve, as Harry instantly exploded.

" _I never entered myself as Champion!_ " Harry roared. He got to his feet, snatching the Golden Egg from Hermione's hands before storming off and up the staircase to the boys' dormitory.

Hermione glared after him, still fuming. When she heard the door to the boys' dormitory slam loudly, she turned back to look at Ron.

Ron was sitting wide-eyed in the couch across from her, looking entirely baffled.

"Blimey… I don't think I've ever seen the two of you argue like that before," Ron commented, slack-jawed, "I mean, Harry and me, yeah… You and me, yeah… But you and Harry?! What's got into you two?"

Hermione sighed heavily, leaning back in her armchair.

"I don't know."


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione sat in intense thought at the Gryffindor table. She was sitting across from Ron and Ginny, who were animatedly discussing her argument with Harry from a few nights back. She did quite wish they would stop talking like she wasn't there.

Hermione had yet to bother to try and smooth things over with Harry. She had hoped her best friend would see sense and try to apologise to her first. But, no such luck. She should have known this was how it would go from the many fights she'd seen Harry have with Ron where neither of them would back down first. Harry had always been just as bad as Ron for being hard-headed.

No, Harry needed his time to stew. In the meantime, Hermione allowed herself the luxury of mulling over her time in the Prefect's bathroom. Not just the part that made her pulse spike – holding a nude Fleur tightly in her arms—but also the conversation.

It was true that she and Fleur did not really know each other. They had been close, so damned close, to becoming good friends. But it had been curtailed so abruptly.

Hermione wanted a shot to make the thing between them more than _something._ More than a missed opportunity.

Lately she had been thinking about how intensely focussed Fleur had been when studying English in the library with Pansy. When not glaring at Pansy so fiercely the Slytherin might actually be burned, Hermione had been watching the blonde. She'd been carefully mouthing the words and looking at the book so eagerly. If Hermione put the memory of her jealous feelings to one side, she had been struck by how much Fleur's focus had reminded her of her own intensity.

It had given Hermione an idea. A way that she could help Fleur with her English _and_ find a way to get to know her some more.

Hermione saw a flurry over at the Ravenclaw table as a few Beauxbatons students got up to head out to their morning classes, Fleur amongst them.

"So Hermione really hasn't tried to talk to him either?" Ginny was asking Ron.

"Nope," Ron replied, taking the opportunity to steal a hashbrown from Hermione's plate, "Neither of them are backing down. Me, though? I said sorry to Hermione for taking her for granted straight off the bat. Too many essays she's helped me through without me giving Hermione her dues…"

Hermione's brown eyes flicked back to Ron momentarily as she snorted.

"Ginny, don't listen to him," Hermione interjected, "Ron is only acting gracious because he has an essay he needs help with."

"Of course," Ginny smirked, stealing a sausage from Ron's plate. Weasleys were incorrigible.

Hermione let her eyes flick back to the Beauxbatons girls as Ginny and Ron continued chatting in the background.

Fleur had shouldered her satchel and was almost at the door of the Great Hall, Julie beside her.

"I've gotta go," Hermione said abruptly to the redheads, grabbing her own bag.

She didn't even notice whether Ron or Ginny had acknowledged her parting words as she hurried to catch the Beauxbatons on their way out.

"Er, Fleur!" Hermione called out, easily catching up to the girls in their high heels. They might look graceful and elegant, but high heels were hardly made for a quick getaway.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat as Fleur turned, her platinum blonde hair fanning out as she spun. Her sapphire eyes locked with Hermione's gaze as she cocked her head to one side, curious.

_The textbook on Veela had said they were naturally inquisitive creatures,_ Hermione recalled vaguely, her mind wandering as she appreciated Fleur's beauty.

_No, enough about the damn textbook,_ Hermione inwardly chided herself, _That's how I ended up in this mess in the first place._

"Oui?" Fleur prompted Hermione, bringing her back to Earth.

"Oh, ah… Could I talk to you… Alone for a moment?" Hermione asked, grateful that at least she wasn't blushing.

Julie was watching her curiously now too, a small smile playing at her face.

_Goddamn pretty girls, why are they so distracting?!_ Hermione inwardly moaned. She couldn't wait until her hormones settled one day and she wouldn't be so mortifyingly distracted by them all.

Fleur glanced sideways at Julie, seeming a little cautious. Julie smiled at her friend, giving her an encouraging nod. Hermione was fascinated at the exchange between the two.

Fleur finally returned her gaze to Hermione. Their other friends had carried on without them, Julie and Fleur being the last of the Beauxbatons girls remaining in the doorway of the Great Hall.

"Fine," Fleur said quietly, with a polite and overly rigid nod. Hermione wondered if Fleur was embarrassed about their last encounter.

Julie's smile grew a little and she shot a wink at Hermione. She patted Fleur on the shoulder.

**"I will see you in class, Fleur,"** Julie said confidentially. Again Hermione felt the slight guilt of being able to understand the French the girls spoke between each other.

**"You could stay…"** Fleur said, a slight desperate edge to her voice.

Julie made a small scoffing noise.

**"Fleur Delacour, champion of our school? Afraid of a cute girl? Come on. Give her a chance and hear her out,"** Julie said in rapid French to Fleur, **"I know you're awkward about the last time you saw her, but you've got to get over it."**

Hermione felt her stomach jerk. Fleur? Afraid of her? Was it just Julie that thought she was cute, or did Fleur think that too?

**"Easy for you to say,"** Fleur muttered as Julie slipped away, a playful smile on her face.

"Er, thanks," Hermione said, suddenly far more awkward now she was alone with Fleur.

"What did you want to talk about?" Fleur asked bluntly, setting her face back to its usual unreadable state.

Hermione almost lost her resolve then. When Fleur was icy and aloof, the confidence she exuded was even more intimidating than usual. Hermione swallowed heavily, intent on following through.

"I, ah… Wanted… Er… About Pansy," Hermione managed to get out, feeling the temperature rise all of a sudden. Now she was alone with Fleur, the memories of holding Fleur's naked body tight to her kept bursting into her mind.

_Bloody hormones._

Fleur sighed, crossing her arms across her chest.

"What about 'er?" Fleur asked. She had a sulkiness about her this morning, evident in her voice. "Are you just 'ere to warn me about 'er again? I already told 'er I do not need 'er assistance anymore. I will simply struggle on wiz zis language on my own."

Fleur looked well and truly petulant. Yet it was still a cute look on the blonde.

"I, er, it's about that actually…" Hermione mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck, "I just thought… If you really did want to work on your English… I could help you? I mean, I get it if you still don't trust me… But I thought it might be a nice way for me to make things up to you and maybe get to know you some more."

Fleur's eyebrows raised slightly as she processed Hermione's words. Hermione withheld a wince as Fleur's facial expression darkened further.

"Mm, so, let me get zis straight," Fleur said, placing a hand on her hip and flipping her hair. Hermione felt a shiver down her spine. Fleur could be truly intimidating when she wanted to be. " _You_ are offering to 'elp me wiz my English instead of zis girl?"

"Erm, yes," Hermione said, rocking on her heels awkwardly.

"Because you know zis girl 'ad ulterior motives?" Fleur asked, straightening her posture even further.

"Yeah…" Hermione replied. She knew where Fleur was about to go, but for the life of her couldn't think of a way to steer the conversation away from it.

"And you zink it would be better for me to study wiz _you_ , a girl 'oo _confirmed_ she 'ad ulterior motives for spending time wiz me?" Fleur said, quirking an eyebrow.

Hermione cringed.

"Fleur, once again, I'm so sorry," Hermione said sheepishly, "But, come on… I think I've been pretty upfront since then. No more secrets, no more dumb mistakes. I want to get to know you better and I think helping you with your English would be a good way for us to start over."

Fleur frowned a little as she digested Hermione's words.

Hermione exhaled, holding her ground. She knew Veela had infamous tempers and that Fleur didn't trust easily, but Merlin…

Finally, thankfully, Fleur nodded slightly, looking a little self-conscious. She bit her full lower lip and tucked a lock of platinum blonde hair behind her ear.

"I'll… I will zink about it," Fleur said.

Her uncharacteristic show of shyness made Hermione's chest flutter. She loved the moments when Fleur's guard lowered.

"Okay," Hermione smiled, "Well… Let me know if you're interested."

She ran a hand through her brunette curls, enjoying the shy little look on Fleur's face. It was beyond cute.

_Merlin's beard, this crush…_

Fleur straightened, her expression quickly becoming neutral again. She nodded politely before turning on her heel and sauntering out of the Hall in the direction the other Beauxbatons girls had headed.

Hermione sighed, grinning.

Ginny walked up beside her.

"Good news? Judging by the way you're grinning your head off I assume it is," Ginny commented.

Hermione sighed, shuffling the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"Hopefully," Hermione replied.

The two girls walked out together, falling into step as they made their way through the castle in search of their morning classes.

"Look… About the other day…" Ginny began.

"It's fine," Hermione dismissed with a wave, "I get it, Fleur puts up quite the front. She doesn't let people get close to her easily, so I can see why you would think she's a bit of a jerk."

"Yeah, but… That doesn't mean I should dismiss what you say she's been like," Ginny said, "We talk to each other about everything."

"Yeah…" Hermione murmured, "Although, I've felt a little like I can't really talk to you or the boys about anything lately."

"Argument with Harry on your mind?" Ginny surmised, "He'll get over it. At least it's Harry and not Ron. In fact, Ron is weirdly fine with it all."

"Yeah, well, he's no stranger to getting distracted over pretty girls," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes, "And pretty open about using me to help him finish his essays. I think half the reason he apologised so fast was so I would keep helping him."

"Maybe," Ginny said, a smirk on her face at Hermione seeing straight through her brother's antics, "So have you thought about what you're going to do about Harry?"

Hermione groaned.

"I don't know, Gin," Hermione sighed, "I'm terrified for him with this tournament. Obviously I don't want him to die. But it's exhausting that he relies so heavily on me to get him through these things. He just takes for granted that I'm going to do it without even saying please or thank you."

"He hasn't exactly lived the most normal life, 'Mione," Ginny said, slowing down as they got close to Hermione's Arithmancy class, "He's under a lot of stress too. On top of that, the Slytherins seem to have doubled down on how much they mess with him."

"Yeah? Like he's the only one the Slytherins try and fuck with?!" Hermione said, her temper unexpectedly spiking, "I get that he's stressed… But I can't be at his beck and call for the rest of my life. That isn't a fair friendship."

Ginny nodded sympathetically as Hermione stopped and leaned outside her classroom.

"Maybe you should talk to him about all this in a calmer setting?" Ginny suggested, "He's a reasonable guy."

Hermione frowned.

"Maybe… I'm just sick of being the only one that makes an effort around here," Hermione sighed.

"You're making an effort to fix things with a girl you like," Ginny pointed out, "Why not with your best mate?"

Hermione shook her head, frustrated. It just wasn't the same.

"I was in the wrong with Fleur," Hermione pointed out, "Harry was in the wrong here."

"'Mione," Ginny groaned, "Harry's a great guy, he had no idea he was doing the wrong thing by you."

"Yeah, well, maybe if he admitted that it would be a start," Hermione grumbled.

Ginny gave her a sympathetic smile before waving and joining the throngs of students on their way to classes further in the castle.

Hermione sighed, folding her arms as she waited outside the door to Arithmancy. She _did_ want to talk to Harry. She was curious as to whether Harry had tried putting the Golden Egg underwater like Fleur had. Despite all her annoyance at the boy, she was worried about him and did want him to pull through the Tournament.

Almost on cue, a thudding wooden leg rang out in the hallways as students parted to make way for a grizzled Alastor Moody. The retired Auror was limping his way to a class, his bright blue magical glass eye whirling wildly around in its socket.

Hermione felt a creeping shiver crawl over her skin as the glass eye suddenly fell on her and held its gaze.

Something about Moody really set her on edge.

He limped over to her on his way past, his hair somehow even wilder than when she had seen him in the storm outside.

"How's it goin' Granger?" Moody growled, showing a couple of his missing teeth as he gnashed his mouth. He truly had a horrifying way of speaking, even if he was being friendly. He barked his words out and wet his lips an unsettling amount with his tongue.

"Erm, good thanks, Professor," Hermione replied guardedly.

"Did ah… Did Potter try ah… The water thing with the egg?" Moody asked, looking around cautiously to check no other students were in earshot.

Once again, Hermione was shocked that the professor appeared to be actively helping Harry to cheat.

"Well, I, er, I don't know," Hermione said honestly, "Harry and I had a bit of a falling out a couple of days ago. Should you really be telling me—well, him, _via_ me—these things?"

Moody seemed to scrunch his features up in disapproval, though it was hard to tell with how grizzled his face was. With all the chunks missing and scars, it was difficult to tell whether he was truly upset or not.

"Granger, are you sure it's wise to be falling out with Potter in the middle of this Tournament?" Moody retorted, "Everyone knows that Potter needs his friends when he deals with dangerous scrapes."

"Everyone except him," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"Look," Moody growled, stepping into Hermione's personal space. Hermione felt vaguely threatened, though couldn't put her finer on why. "We've all heard the stories… Everyone knows that Potter wouldn't be alive today without the help of the 'Brightest Witch of Her Age.' Even Potter knows that. He's a teenage boy, though. He's probably too proud to admit that or thank you for your help."

"Err…" Hermione wasn't sure what to say. Moody was being _so_ intense.

"Hermione!" Pavarti, who Hermione often sat beside in Arithmancy, was calling out to her as she walked up the hallway towards them.

"Just… Help him, okay Granger?" Moody growled, before withdrawing from Hermione's personal space and limping off rapidly.

Hermione shook her head. Each interaction with the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was becoming stranger and stranger. Why did he only act so intense when nobody else was around to catch it?

* * *

After Arithmancy, Hermione had Ancient Runes. Then she spent her lunchtime in the library studying and getting a head start on some of her assignments, so the first time she got to see Harry was in their Defence Against the Dark Arts class after lunch.

Ron, seeming eager to help push his two friends into talking, slid into a chair closest to the window in class. The last two seats available in the classroom were beside him, meaning that Harry and Hermione would have to sit beside each other.

Harry was looking a little worse for wear. He was normally a thin and pale boy with messy hair. But lately he was looking gaunt and almost sickly. He had dark marks under his eyes and his hair was messier than normal.

It was clear from looking at the boy that he was stressed about something. Hermione wasn't sure if it was from not being able to work out the clue or that he had figured it out and was freaked out by what it was. She couldn't even bring herself to find out via Ron, knowing the redhead would just prompt her again to fix things up with the Boy Who Lived.

Harry sighed heavily, sliding into the seat beside Ron. His robes were askew, his tie loose and his shirt untucked. He pulled out his textbook tiredly and slammed it on the desk in front of him.

Hermione paused partway to the desks, not exactly keen on sitting beside Harry.

Moody shot her a meaningful look from his perch at the front of the classroom.

Sighing heavily herself, Hermione came and sat beside Harry.

"Hi," Hermione said tensely. The two of them had been avoiding each other pretty well since their argument and hadn't been this close since then.

"Hey," Harry replied dully. He kept his eyes on his book.

Hermione tensed her jaw, taking her own textbook out and some parchment for note-taking.

"So class," Moody said, getting up with a wince from his seat, "Today we're going to be discussing defence techniques to employ against certain magical creatures."

Moody began going through the lesson, seeming to focus a lot on aquatic based creatures such as Grindylows. Hermione was a little disappointed, a lot of this they had covered in their Second Year with Lupin.

Hermione shot a few glances over at Harry.

As the lesson got further and further, Harry seemed to grow more pale. By the end of the lesson, a muscle was twitching in his jaw. He appeared almost clammy and like he was going to throw up.

"Harry," Hermione whispered under her breath.

She was usually dead set against talking in the middle of a lesson, but she was growing seriously worried about Harry.

Green eyes darted up briefly from his parchment to meet hers.

"Sorry, I've gotta take notes," Harry muttered, before turning his gaze back to his parchment.

He was scratching notes like a madman. He'd almost filled a full scroll with his chicken-scratch writing already. Not even Hermione took such elaborate notes for a standard lesson.

Hermione shot a look across Harry to Ron. Ron looked similarly thrown, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes in shock.

Finally, they got to the end of the lesson. Moody stood up and gave an assignment to the class, telling them they could write on any topic they wanted, on any magical creature they wanted.

As Hermione packed her bag, Pansy Parkinson slid past her desk.

"Good thing you already did that research project on Veela," Pansy muttered as she walked past Hermione. Her dark and intoxicating perfume played at Hermione's senses. Hermione was instantly irked.

"Bite me, Parkinson," Hermione shot back.

"In your dreams!" Parkinson countered as she slid into the crowd of students filing out.

Hermione, deciding not to take the bait, turned her attentions back to Harry.

"Harry… I know things are weird between us… But is everything okay?" Hermione asked. Harry was running his hands nervously through his hair, messing it up further.

Ron was looking at Harry with pure concern.

"Hermione," Harry said, looking at Hermione. His face was all pinched and he looked like he was about to hyperventilate.

"Yeah?" Hermione prompted.

Ron seemed to be encouraging him silently, placing a big paw of a hand on Harry's shoulder.

The late bell rang out for their next class.

"Can I talk to you tonight?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Hermione replied. She wasn't about to let Harry walk all over her again, but she was seriously worried about her friend.

* * *

It was after dinner when Hermione was sitting in the library, getting started on her essay for Defence Against the Dark Arts. She had decided to definitely, _positively_ avoid the subject of Veela.

Instead, she was writing on the legal rights of the Undead. It was quite fascinating. It appeared from her reading so far that vampires and other types of Undead had next to no legal rights.

She'd sketched out a really good plan for her essay and had already earmarked a few strong passages in the tomes scattered over her table.

Thankfully, having a very brief dinner had ensured she'd claimed her favourite hidden table in the corner of the library. It allowed her plenty of peace and solitude for her work.

Hermione had just begun penning the introduction to the essay when she felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck.

She could smell expensive perfume in the air.

"Salut," a velvety voice greeted.

Hermione felt her stomach squirm excitedly as Fleur Delacour elegantly slid into the seat beside her.

"Oh, er, hi," Hermione greeted, "Did you, ah… decide?"

Fleur didn't respond, instead pulling up her satchel and withdrawing a couple of thick textbooks. Hermione looked at the covers. French to English.

"I want to get better at conversing in English," Fleur said in her thick accent, before frowning, **"I want to be able to express myself as freely as I do in French. I'm sick of sounding like an idiot."**

Hermione digested the last sentence in which Fleur had switched to French. She wondered if she should continue feigning ignorance to the language.

No. She had decided no more lies or games with Fleur.

**"You…** ah, **do not sound like an idiot in English,"** Hermione managed in French. Her speaking ability was far below her listening and reading skills, but she knew enough to blag her way through a conversation.

Fleur stared at her in shock and mortification for a moment.

**"You… You speak French?"** Fleur asked slowly, her face reddening a little, **"Why did you not say?"**

"I'm not a confident speaker in the language," Hermione said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck, "And it seemed rude to interrupt any conversations with my poor attempts at French."

Hermione sincerely hoped Fleur wasn't going to take the revelation badly.

But Fleur merely continued blushing, before opening a book and flipping to a page.

"I cannot seem to get pronunciations correct," Fleur said, looking intently at the pages of the book. She seemed embarrassed.

"What else would you like to work on?" Hermione asked gently. She felt a little bad now. She just wanted to get it out in the open that she could understand French, she didn't want to embarrass the girl.

"I take too long to understand sentences and zink of ze right words," Fleur said self-consciously, letting a curtain of silky hair fall and conceal her face, "I spend so much time learning ze words but zen am too slow to get zem out."

Hermione hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and tapping her chin. Thoughts of her crush on the blonde were pushed sharply to one side as she considered the academic problem at hand.

"So it isn't so much about the textbook learning then…" Hermione mused aloud, before turning her attention to the uncomfortable looking blonde, "How many people do you speak to in English?"

Fleur tucked her hair behind her ear, turning in her chair to face Hermione fully. She seemed curious by Hermione's question.

"My professors, any 'Ogwarts students…" Fleur replied simply.

Hermione furrowed her brow as she thought.

"But not any of your friends," Hermione surmised, "So would you say you're spending most of your day speaking French?"

Fleur cocked her head to one side, considering the question.

"Per'aps," Fleur conceded.

"I think maybe it is just a matter of practice," Hermione said, smiling in a way she hoped was non-judgmental, "If you spend more time engaging in practical conversations in English you'll probably find yourself able to call on the words more quickly. We can work on that—pronunciation too."

Fleur again took a while considering the suggestion presented to her. Eventually she nodded.

"Okay," Fleur agreed.

_Merlin's beard she looks so cute with her guard down._

"So… Conversationally… Do you want to talk about our conversation in the Prefect's bathroom?" Hermione asked, drawing on all her Gryffindor courage. Fleur had pretty much fled from the bathroom after Hermione had confessed she really liked her.

Fleur straightened her back, doing her best to appear aloof.

"I would razzer focus on pronunciation," Fleur requested primly.

Hermione decided to not press the issue, she had plenty of time to get back to that particular line of questioning. She sighed and smiled.

"Fine, which pronunciations bother you the most?" Hermione asked. She was quickly learning that to deal with Fleur, one had to have the art of patience.

"Ze 'th' sound and ze 'h' sound," Fleur said, spelling out the letters that plagued her, "I cannot seem to get zem sounding correct no matter 'ow 'ard I try."

Hermione smiled. A lot of people would not sweat their accent altering the pronunciation of words in another language, but Hermione supposed Fleur might be a bit of a perfectionist.

"Let's start with 'h,'" Hermione suggested, "It is the easiest one to tackle. When people say a word with an h at the start, they push air out of their mouth, almost like a gasp or laugh. Try saying _'huh,'_ and really push the air out of your mouth."

"'Uh," Fleur repeated, before frowning.

"Huh," Hermione repeated, smiling encouragingly.

"'Uh," Fleur repeated, frowning more deeply.

The back and forth continued a few more times before Fleur huffed and shut the book in front of her, hard.

"It is useless," Fleur said with an edge to her voice, "I just cannot get it."

"Fleur, it's okay," Hermione soothed, moving her chair closer to the blonde's, "We've only been trying for a short while. Besides, these are such minor points. You handle the language fine."

"I don't want to be fine," Fleur grumbled, "I want to be perfect."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, amused.

"You're a perfectionist?" Hermione asked, enjoying getting to know Fleur a little more. Fleur shot her a sulky look.

"I just do not like being bad at zings," Fleur replied.

"You'll get it," Hermione encouraged, "It isn't so hard once you figure how to make the sound. 'H' can sound a little like a pant, even."

Hermione exhaled in a sigh-like pant to demonstrate her point.

Fleur stared at her, an unreadable expression crossing her face. Her eyes seemed darker than usual and were stormy again.

"You okay?" Hermione asked, after a silence had fallen between them for a few moments.

"I… Erm… I zink I can… Zat was a good example," Fleur managed, suddenly averting her eyes. There was a slight colour in her cheeks.

Hermione felt herself smiling slightly. She liked these moments where she saw Fleur look a little more unedited. Fleur held on to her icy façade tightly, rarely letting anyone see her in anything other than total control. It renewed Hermione's feelings towards the blonde. Her desire to know Fleur more was coupled with her natural curiosity and need to work things out.

That and Fleur looked even more beautiful when she relaxed. There was a warmth to her delicate features that was lacking when she was guarded. It reminded Hermione awfully of their conversation in the Prefect's bath, when she had moved close and pulled their nude forms tightly together.

Hermione couldn't help but let her gaze run over Fleur a little more hungrily at the memory. Her loathsome sex-drive was playing up again as she imagined pulling Fleur into her arms again, kissing the smooth expanse of neck that was visible above her powder-blue collar, running her hand up one of Fleur's long and toned thighs…

"'Ermione! Fleur!" a small voice called out.

Hermione snapped out of her reverie, blushing guiltily. She had been all but ogling Fleur. Fleur, whether she had sensed the nature of Hermione's gaze or not, was still looking away uncomfortably, the pink in her cheeks even more pronounced.

Her arctic eyes immediately snapped up to the source of the greeting, the small miniature version of herself standing restlessly by a bookshelf.

"What are you doing 'ere, Gabrielle?" Fleur asked, a terseness to her voice. She often seemed to take a parental tone with her much younger sister.

Hermione watched silently as Gabrielle rocked back and forth on her heels, holding tightly on to the straps of her backpack. She was beaming.

"You two are friends again?!" Gabrielle asked excitedly, "I 'ave missed spending time wiz 'Ermione!"

Hermione shot a cautious glance at the blonde. In the Prefect's bathroom, Fleur had said she didn't know what to think of her.

"We…" Fleur trailed off for a moment, glancing down for a moment before looking back at her sister, "We are studying togezzer. 'Ermione is 'elping me wiz my English."

"Oh right, you 'ate zat you cannot say 'er name properly," Gabrielle commented, coming to stand beside her sister.

"Gabrielle!" Fleur chided, her cheeks pink yet again.

Gabrielle's large blue eyes moved to look at Hermione, full of warmth and happiness.

"You know, 'Ermione, I don't zink I 'ave ever seen my sister forgive anyone so fast!" Gabrielle informed Hermione, "I knew you were special."

"Erm, thanks," Hermione replied with a smile.

"Gabrielle," Fleur said in a firm and low voice, "I zink we should get you back to the Carriage."

"Aww! But I just got 'ere!" Gabrielle whined, pouting, "I never get to spend time wiz 'Ermione!"

"No… No, I zink we should take you back to ze Carriage," Fleur insisted, looking at Hermione, "Ah, apologies for cutting our studying short, 'Ermione. I will practice what we discussed."

She hurriedly packed up her bag and said her goodbyes, steering Gabrielle away through the bookshelves with a firm hand.

Hermione stared after the Delacours, hoping she hadn't scared Fleur off with the heated way she had been looking at her.

She briefly entertained the possibility of getting up and following the Delacours to try and talk some more, but was foiled by Harry emerging from between the bookshelves.

"For a hidden spot in the library, everyone sure seems to know how to find me," Hermione commented.

Harry ran a hand through his dark hair, causing it to spike even more wildly. He came and sat in the seat Fleur had just vacated, still looking pale and sleep deprived.

"Hey Hermione," Harry greeted, his voice a little hoarse, "Is now a good time to talk?"

"Sure, Harry," Hermione replied. After seeing how freaked out her friend was in their class earlier, she was more than ready to hear him out.

"Uh, well, first I wanna apologise…" Harry said, running his hand through his hair again, "I'm- ah- I really did take you for granted and I'm sorry. Sometimes… I guess I let the stress get to me… I never wanted you to feel like I was heaping everything on you. I just… I really appreciate you and even if you never helped me with anything again I'd still wanna be mates."

"Harry, that means a lot," Hermione said, relaxing considerably. It was all she had wanted to hear from Harry.

Harry relaxed too, offering a half-smile.

He offered a hug, which Hermione accepted.

"And I did take the egg to the baths myself," Harry said, releasing Hermione from the hug, "It… It worked. I got the clue."

"I assume that's why you've been looking a little freaked out?" Hermione inquired.

Harry bit his lip. He spread his hands out on the desk in front of him, tapping his fingers nervously.

"I don't want to bring you down with my problems," Harry said, shaking his head, "I've done enough of that over the years."

"Harry, it's okay," Hermione reassured her friend, "All I wanted was for you to appreciate how much I help you. Well, that and maybe stop asking me to help you with your schoolwork."

"Really?" Harry furrowed his brow. He seemed wary of upsetting Hermione again.

"Really, Harry," Hermione insisted, "Now, tell me about this clue."

* * *

Hermione's mind was whirring as she left the library later that evening. Harry had told her all about the voice from the Egg telling him that something incredibly important to him was going to be stolen, and that he (with Myrtle's help) had figured out that the voice was likely referring to a person and not his Firebolt broom.

It suddenly made sense why Harry had been so agitated. He had no idea who these mysterious creatures were going to kidnap, though he had figured out (also with Myrtle's help) that they would likely be held underwater in the Black Lake.

Hermione was on her own as she made her way through the candlelit hallways. She had once again outlasted all her peers in the library. Harry had wanted to stay with her and keep talking things out. But once he had apologised, explained the latest with the clue, and apologised several more times, Harry had looked like a corpse. Hermione had bossily insisted that Harry finally go and get some sleep.

Now Hermione was walking through the hallway she was wishing she had bossed herself to sleep a couple of hours earlier too.

She yawned widely, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand sleepily. Her satchel felt even heavier than usual.

She turned a corner and almost bowled directly into Mad-Eye Moody.

Hermione let out an involuntary gasp.

Moody didn't look well. He was pale and sweaty, one hand planted on the stone wall of the hallway. He seemed to be trembling a little and was wetting his lips with his tongue even more frequently than usual.

"Er… Professor?" Hermione ventured, "Are you okay?"

Hermione inwardly cursed her luck for running into the unsettling Professor on her own yet again.

Moody snapped his head to look at her sharply, beads of sweat flying off his jaw and brow as he turned.

"What the _bleedin'_ hell are you doing here, Granger?!" Moody snapped, causing Hermione to jump in surprise.

"Oh, er, well I'm not out of curfew yet," Hermione explained, "Not for a Fourth Year. But I'll leave you to it…"

She awkwardly went to move around him when a scarred but strong hand flashed out and grabbed her roughly by her upper arm. Hermione winced at the tightness of his grip.

"P-Professor?!" Hermione was startled.

"Tell me," Moody wheezed, "Tell me you've helped Potter with his game plan for the Second Task. Tell me he has a plan."

There was something off about his voice and his magic eye seemed to be practically bulging out of its socket. Hermione felt like her skin was crawling being so close to him.

"Professor, this seems a little inappropriate, don't you think?" Hermione asked, trying not to let the stress show in her voice. He was scaring her now. There was something decidedly dangerous about this man—Ex-Auror or not.

"I'll—" Moody let out a pained gasp, "-I'll show you inappropriate—" Moody muttered, so low that Hermione barely caught the words.

Hermione felt a jolt of fear course through her. His hand was so tightly gripping her arm she couldn't easily grab her wand.

There was a quick clipping noise on the stone floor as someone else whipped around the corner, wand raised. Hermione's eyes widened as she recognised the blonde in the powder-blue uniform.

"Zis is tres inapproprie," Fleur demanded coldly, "Release 'er immediately."

Moody wrenched his head to look at Fleur, scowling.

"Do I have to tell the Headmaster about a student threatening a teacher with a wand?" Moody grunted.

"Do I 'ave to tell ze 'Eadmaster about a Professor man'andling a student and attempting to get 'Arry Potter to cheat in ze Triwizard Tournament?" Fleur shot back, without missing a beat.

Fleur's hand was unwavering as she held her wand pointed at Moody.

Finally, the grizzled ex-Auror let go of Hermione with a growl.

"I don't have _time_ for this bollocks anyway!" Moody roared, before abruptly taking off down the hallway at some pace.

Hermione stared after him, utterly flummoxed by the increasingly erratic behaviour of the professor. This time he'd done more than make her uncomfortable, he'd genuinely scared her. She wondered if there was another professor she could speak to about the issue… Maybe McGonagall.

"Are you okay, 'Ermione?" Fleur asked, lowering her wand.

Hermione smiled weakly at the blonde.

"Utterly freaked out by Moody's behaviour, but otherwise fine. I can look after myself." Hermione replied, shuddering at the memory of the interaction, "What are you doing in the halls so late, anyway?"

"Let me walk you to your dormitory," Fleur offered, "I was 'oping to catch you at ze end of your study so I could talk some more."

"Really?" Hermione was surprised. She'd thought her study session with Fleur had gone poorly at best.

She fell into step with the blonde, eying her curiously. She was looking flawless as ever, platinum blonde hair fluttering after her as she walked, her satin uniform clinging to her form sinfully. Hermione swallowed and tried to bring her mind out of its almost single-minded drive to successfully pursue the girl.

"Does 'e always treat you like zat?" Fleur asked, "Professor Moody seemed entirely inappropriate."

"He's a new professor here," Hermione explained, "Apparently known for being eccentric and heavy-handed since his Auror days. Still… He's been unsettling me a little lately. I think I'll talk to Professor McGonagall about it. But enough about that… What did you want to talk to me about?"

Fleur bit her bottom lip, seeming awkward.

"Gabrielle," Fleur said, a light pink suddenly adorning her cheeks, "You shouldn't listen to what she says. She's… She says stupid things."

Hermione found herself quirking a small smile. Fleur was embarrassed about Gabrielle telling her about Fleur wishing she could pronounce Hermione's name properly.

"I won't read into anything," Hermione promised. She was glad to see that Fleur's shoulders seemed to relax as she said the words.

"Bon," Fleur sighed.

Hermione admired the graceful way that Fleur walked beside her. Even at the very end of a long day, she was still gliding in her high heels with the elegance of a runway model.

"So… You came all the way back into the castle right near the end of curfew… Just to check I hadn't taken Gabrielle's words too seriously?" Hermione asked boldly. Fleur briefly looked embarrassed, before hiding her expression carefully again.

"Ah, also to tell you zat I want to continue our lessons," Fleur said, dodging Hermione's question, "I… I enjoy zem."

"I'm earning back your trust?" Hermione asked, her spirits rising. Perhaps the path to winning over Fleur was about to become a lot smoother.

Fleur smiled lightly, shaking her head a little so her hair shimmered.

"You are persistent, 'Ermione," Fleur commented, "But… I do like spending time wiz you—even if I do not quite know where we stand just yet."

Hermione felt the urge to fist-pump, but restrained herself.

Hermione was curious about one other thing. They were drawing closer to the portrait of the Fat Lady that led to the Gryffindor common room.

"So… I'm curious," Hermione said cautiously, "You don't trust easily at all. You shoot down everyone that approaches you that you don't know… How did Pansy get you to agree to English lessons with her?"

Fleur seemed to consider this carefully, before shrugging.

"I cannot explain it," Fleur finally replied, "Somezing about 'er was unzreatening and… Ah… Inviting? I cannot express it properly."

"Pansy… Unthreatening and inviting?" Hermione echoed in a deadpan voice, "What did she do to give off a vibe like that?! Completely disguise herself?!"

They had reached the portrait now and the Fat Lady was eying them curiously. Fleur leaned in and kissed Hermione on each cheek. Though entirely innocuous, the action lit a fire deep in Hermione's belly. She longed to lean in and kiss Fleur goodnight on the lips.

"Non," Fleur chuckled as she began to walk away, "Alzough she was ze one 'oo sent me zose strawberries!"

Hermione felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her as Fleur continued to glide away down the hall.

Pansy sent Fleur strawberries?

How would she know that Veela loved those? How would she be able to make herself seem unthreatening and draw a notoriously untrustworthy Veela girl in?

Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. Unless this was the biggest coincidence in the world, there was really only one way that Pansy could suddenly know all that.

She suddenly flashed back to tossing her notebook and the book on Veela into the bin. She'd been so emotionally charged all she had focussed on at the time was getting rid of it all. But now she realised just how stupid she had been. She hadn't burned them or thrown them out in her bedside bin… How could she be so careless?!

"Are you okay, dear?" the Fat Lady asked from over a glass of sherry.

"Nope," Hermione replied hoarsely.


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione suffered a dreadful night's sleep. Her head was full of buzzing thoughts, each growing louder than the other.

There was something terribly off about Moody.

Harry seemed on the brink of a breakdown.

Pansy— _fucking_ Pansy—had her hands on information about Veela and was up to something with it all.

Hermione tossed and turned so much that the white linen sheets of her bed twisted around her, feeling like suffocating binds.

_Fleur…_

Hermione couldn't stop her mind turning back to the blonde.

She was hooked on the feeling of getting Fleur to lower her guard. Of seeing that rare flash of vulnerability that Fleur kept carefully locked away from everyone else.

Not to mention the way Hermione's body practically set alight when Fleur was physically near. Hermione had felt ready to spontaneously combust when Fleur had kissed her cheeks in a chaste goodbye the previous evening.

Hermione felt like rubbish as the sun rose over Hogwarts, beaming bright sunlight through the tower windows. She sat up and rubbed her bleary eyes, tiredly disentangling herself from the twisted sheets.

She could already hear Lavender and Parvati up and about, loudly discussing their skincare routines and how they were planning to wear their hair that day. It was already giving her a headache.

Hermione didn't complain though, she had enough on her plate without getting in a disagreement with her dorm-mates.

Hermione felt like her arms and legs were made of lead as she pulled on her uniform, fumbling with the top button.

She was still tying her tie up as she hopped out of the portrait-hole and headed down to the Great Hall. Knowing Ron and his appetite, the boys would have headed directly to breakfast.

Hermione was so engrossed in getting the knot right in her tie that she didn't even notice the sound of wood on stone until Mad-Eye Moody had fallen into step beside her. Hermione felt her body instantly tense up.

Once again, the hallway was almost entirely deserted for their encounter, Hermione stuck halfway between the Gryffindor tower and the Great Hall.

"Granger," Moody grunted.

He was looking a lot healthier than the last time Hermione had seen him—Healthier for a grizzled and deeply battle damaged ex-Auror, anyway. The pale sweats were gone and his glass eye looked more secure in its socket as it rolled around.

"Professor," Hermione replied guardedly. She didn't want another one of his intense and unsettling conversations to arise in the short walk to the Great Hall this morning.

"I wanted to apologise for last night," Moody said gruffly, staring straight ahead as he clunked along beside her, "I, er, feeling very unwell and shouldn'tve taken it out on you and your friend."

"Ah, that's okay," Hermione replied awkwardly. She sped up her walking pace slightly, wanting to get back to the comforts of being around other students.

"I was just worried about Potter, you know, being so young and inexperienced for such a dangerous Tournament," Moody explained, "It came out all wrong with how unwell I was feeling. Please pass on my apology to your friend, Delacour."

"Er, right," Hermione replied. They had turned a corner and now she could see the Entrance Hall in the distance. She was so close. "Well, I hope you're feeling better now, Professor."

"I am," Moody replied, keeping pace with Hermione easily, "But do help your friend, Granger."

Hermione could practically feel the knots of tension coiling in her back as Moody clapped her on the shoulder before lumbering off ahead of her. They'd reached the Entrance Hall. Hermione stood still, allowing Moody to get far, far ahead of her. The less one-on-ones she had with him, the better.

Her eyes almost instantly drifted to the Ravenclaw table as she walked into the Great Hall. She could see a small group of Beauxbatons girls near the end of the table. Fleur was not among them.

"Looking for Fleur?"

Hermione jumped at the voice right in her ear.

Julie sidled up to her, grinning.

"I was just looking around," Hermione deflected.

Julie grinned wider.

"Relax, I know what it is like to want Fleur, remember?" Julie said reassuringly, "Now… I 'ear you can understand French?"

"Er, yes," Hermione admitted. It appeared Fleur had filled Julie in on that particular revelation.

Julie looked almost as embarrassed as Fleur.

"Oh… Ah… We've been quite free in what we discuss in French," Julie said weakly.

"I noticed," Hermione said, quirking an eyebrow.

There was a small pause between them before Julie laughed lightly.

"Well, zat is embarrassing," Julie shrugged, "But I am not as embarrassed as Fleur!"

"She's embarrassed?" Hermione asked. She felt a little bad at that. She'd worried that would happen when she admitted her comprehension of French.

Julie pursed her bright pink lips, seeming to deeply consider what she was going to say in response.

She hummed lightly, grinning puckishly for a moment.

"Well… She is embarrassed easily in front of you," Julie said finally, winking at Hermione.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but Julie swept away coyly, taking away any chance for Hermione to continue the conversation.

Hermione gaped after the girl for a moment before bursting into a dumb, goofy grin.

Fleur was easily embarrassed in front of her.

Thoughts of how awful Moody was had entirely been banished from her mind. Because _Fleur was easily embarrassed in front of her._

Hermione practically floated over to the Gryffindor table. She sat down beside Ginny, across from Ron and Harry.

She was wrenched back to her senses as she saw Harry was still looking quite pale and tired.

"How's it going?" Hermione asked cautiously. The Weasleys both grunted in response, deeply engrossed in their breakfasts. Harry pushed around some baked beans with his fork.

"Better, not great," Harry groaned, his eyes downcast.

"Harry, we're going to find a way for you to breathe underwater, I know it," Hermione reassured.

As she ate her own breakfast, her mind rolled over the problem at hand. She hadn't heard of any spells that could make someone breathe underwater—yet. All she could think of was Muggle scuba gear, but she doubted that would be allowed or functional on the grounds of Hogwarts.

She _had_ heard of charms to protect against certain types of harm—such as a fireproof charm. Surely there would be one to protect against drowning.

Hermione's brown eyes flicked up to follow the movements of the students across the hall. A gaggle of Slytherins had got up and were making their way out of the hall in drips and drabbles of emerald green.

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she remembered the Pansy issue. She felt the flame of rage reignited within her.

Hermione tossed down the last corner of her toast, grabbing her bag quickly.

"I'll see you guys in class," Hermione muttered, leaping out of her seat. She had just caught a sleek dark bob trailing behind the other Slytherins.

It turned out Hermione needn't have worried about catching up to Pansy. She had barely made it around the first corner of the hallways to the dungeons before she was grabbed and roughly pushed against a wall.

Dazed, Hermione found herself staring into intense grey eyes. Pansy was glaring at her, holding her against the stone wall by the shoulders.

"Why did you get Delacour to stop English lessons with me?" Pansy demanded.

Hermione snorted in response. The nerve.

"Maybe because whatever you're up to, it's messed up?" Hermione shot back.

"It's not a crime to want to get _closer_ to Delacour," Pansy sneered, leaning further into Hermione.

Hermione was inwardly glad nobody else had headed down the hallway. The position they were in would probably appear a little compromising.

"You don't want to get closer to her, you want to… Collar her and stuff," Hermione retorted, mumbling the latter part of her sentence.

Pansy raised an eyebrow, suddenly smirking.

"Who says that's a bad thing? Plenty of people are into that if it's consensual," Pansy said suggestively.

Hermione, to her embarrassment, blushed and looked away.

"You're such a prude," Pansy sneered.

"Shut up," Hermione snapped, remembering why she had chased Pansy down in the first place, "I know you have my book and my notes. Give them back."

"I don't think I have the foggiest as to what you are on about," Pansy said, smiling broadly.

Hermione glared at her, trying to wriggle free. Parkinson had a surprisingly strong hold.

"You know what I'm talking about," Hermione said, struggling harder, "The strawberries, making her trust you…"

Pansy pushed herself harder against Hermione, fully pinning her against the wall. She grinned villainously.

"Has it occurred to you that maybe I'm just charming?" Pansy challenged.

Hermione snorted again.

"Why are you even bothering? I remember what you said about her—you don't see her as an equal," Hermione growled.

"Doesn't mean she isn't hot," Pansy sneered, "Besides, it bothers you a lot… Which makes it even more entertaining for me."

"Bitch," Hermione cursed. She wasn't usually partial to swearing, but Pansy got under her skin like few other people could.

"Better than a Gryffindor with a hero complex," Pansy shot back hotly.

"Better than a Slytherin out to ruin lives," Hermione volleyed back.

Expecting Pansy to continue exchanging barbs, Hermione was entirely caught offguard when Pansy lurched forward, pressing her lips against her own.

"Mmmf-?!"

Pansy pulled away abruptly, releasing Hermione. She had a mortified look on her face.

"What the—" Hermione began, before getting cut off.

"That never fucking happened," Pansy snapped.

"What—Why—Did you—Do you _like_ me?!" Hermione stammered. She was not often lost for words, but she felt like reality had just taken a wild tilt.

"Of course not!" Pansy spat back, "Shut up and never talk about this again!"

Pansy turned on her heel swiftly, marching off down the hallway as fast as she could.

Hermione leaned against the wall, utterly confused and a little dazed.

She stayed there until a few Gryffindors rounded the corner, on their way to their morning Potions class in the dungeons.

Harry and Ron walked up to her.

"What happened to you?" Ron asked casually, nodding at her, "You look like you've run into another troll in a bathroom."

"Something like that," Hermione muttered, dazed.

* * *

Pansy wasn't in Potions that morning.

Nor in Care of Magical Creatures.

But Hermione was quite relieved about it. She was still entirely confused by what had happened by the time she made it to the library that evening.

Harry was going to join Hermione later in the evening to look for water-breathing spells. In the meantime, Hermione was hoping that… _Yes._

As she slipped behind all the bookshelves hiding her favourite study place, she came across Fleur.

Fleur was sitting patiently at the table, books ready and waiting in front of her.

She was looking beautiful in the warm light of the library, her white-blonde hair glittering and showcasing its silvery quality. She was shivering in her blue satin uniform. While it clung to her quite deliciously (in Hermione's opinion), it was terribly impractical for the castle. Let alone for a girl that was predisposed to hating the cold.

If Julie or one of her other Beauxbatons friends were here, Fleur at least would have someone to sit closely with for warmth.

_Or_ I _could be the one she sits close to for warmth…_ Hermione thought to herself.

She slipped into the seat beside Fleur, bold enough to sit close, but shy enough not to sit _too_ close.

"So, uh, you want to continue our lessons?" Hermione asked, inwardly berating herself for stating the obvious. Why did pretty girls make her brain turn to mush?

Fleur smiled politely at her, nodding cautiously.

"Oui—yes, if that is okay by you," Fleur answered, "I have been practising."

She pronounced the 'h' on 'have' incredibly carefully. She looked like she was focussing hard.

Hermione felt herself inwardly swoon.

"Er—okay," Hermione said, averting her eyes for a moment and rubbing the back of her neck. She could feel a slight blush in her cheeks. Something about Fleur studying really hard to perfect the language was just very attractive to her.

"We can practice conversations again?" Fleur suggested. She shivered a little and Hermione repressed the urge to put an arm around the blonde.

"Sure," Hermione said, smiling a little.

"Where did you grow up, Hermione?" Fleur asked carefully, focusing on enunciating each word.

"A small town not far from London," Hermione answered, "Quite boring really. How about you?"

"Marseille," Fleur answered, barely taking a beat to register the question, "It is a beautiful place in the South of France. Do you have any siblings?"

"No, I'm an only child," Hermione said, smiling warmly, "Growing up I always wanted a little brother or sister… But now I have Harry and Ron! They're pretty much brothers. What about you? Any siblings other than Gabrielle?"

"Non—Er, no," Fleur corrected quickly, remedying her instinctive return to her native tongue. Hermione didn't mind. She quite liked hearing Fleur talk in French.

"'Ow did— _ugh_ – _How_ did you find school before Hogwarts?" Fleur asked, wincing as she missed the 'h' pronunciation at first, "I heard you're a Muggleborn. Life must have been different."

"Don't be so hard on yourself with the pronunciation," Hermione said, moving closer and putting a hand on Fleur's shoulder. She kept it there as she answered Fleur's question.

"Life was quite different," Hermione answered, "Not just because of the magic thing. But…" Hermione sighed, "I didn't really have any friends back then. Nobody at my school wanted to be friends with the bushy haired, bossy, know-it-all."

Hermione couldn't look at Fleur's face as she answered.

She almost jumped as she felt Fleur's soft hand come to place itself on top of her own.

"Well, zey did not know what zey were missing," Fleur answered softly, "And… Your hair is quite cute."

"Cute?" Hermione snapped her head back to look at Fleur so fast that it cricked.

Fleur smiled softly and looked down, before resetting her aloof expression. She looked up and swallowed.

"My schooling was quite lonely too," Fleur told Hermione, "At least once my zrall began to come in. It takes people a while to get used to it, you know? Girls hated ze attention always being on me at school and boys acted strangely. Awful."

"But Beauxbatons is better?" Hermione asked. She was intensely aware that her hand was still on Fleur's shoulder, Fleur's hand on top of it. Her skin was so soft. A little cold though. Hermione wanted nothing more than to wrap Fleur up in her arms and warm her up. She resisted.

"It is," Fleur smiled warmly, seeming to lean in a little closer to Hermione, "Most people are used to ze zrall," Fleur winced, "Hermione, can you teach me how to say 'th' properly?"

"Ah, sure," Hermione said slowly, finding herself leaning in a little more too.

It was so easy to get lost in Fleur's deep sapphire eyes.

"How do I do it?" Fleur asked Hermione.

"You, ah," Hermione cleared her throat. Her mouth was suddenly dry, "You put your tongue to your teeth and push air against it. Like this."

She opened her mouth a little, showing Fleur where she placed her tongue against her front teeth.

Fleur's eyes dropped to her mouth. Hermione wondered if she imagined seeing Fleur's pupils dilate a little.

Hermione swallowed heavily.

"Ah, you try," Hermione encouraged.

"Tttthhhh…" Fleur tried, spreading her full lips open a little as she tried. Hermione could see the small pink tip of her tongue protruding a little past her perfect white teeth. She tried not to stare too intensely.

"That's… Uh… That's really good," Hermione murmured. Her eyes flicked back up to Fleur's sapphire ones, before flicking back down to Fleur's full lips. She subconsciously wet her own lips with her tongue.

"Really good?" Fleur echoed. Hermione's eyes flicked back up to meet the blonde's. Fleur's eyes seemed a little glazed. She almost seemed entranced. Fleur moved forward a little more and Hermione could feel short soft breaths brushing against her face.

Hermione, her careful self restraint beginning to slip and fray, began to lean in a little too.

A throat cleared nearby and the two girls separated abruptly, Fleur looking away with a light blush on her cheeks. She seemed to be inspecting a nearby bookcase with a curious intensity.

Hermione, on the other hand, flustered as hell, turned to the source of the noise.

Harry was standing nearby, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Er, we said we would study together tonight?" Harry said questioningly, his green eyes moving to Fleur, "But if you're busy…"

"Non," Fleur said suddenly, standing up abruptly, "We were just finishing."

"Fleur—" Hermione started, but Fleur hushed her with a raised hand. The blonde packed her books into her satchel with lightning speed.

"I, ah, have Tournament preparations to attend to, anyway," Fleur said, without looking directly at Hermione, "Bonsoir!"

With that, Fleur swept away, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of her expensive perfume in the air.

Harry awkwardly stepped forward, taking Fleur's now-vacant seat.

"Are you sure this is a good time?" Harry said, before leaning forward, "What was going on there, huh?"

Hermione shook her head, trying to dispel her now-spiked sexual frustration. _Damn hormones._

"I have no clue," Hermione answered honestly, "But let's not waste time on my failing love-life. Let's start looking for magic that can help you breathe underwater. I'll start with Charms, you start with Transfiguration."

"Deal," Harry replied.

They were in for a long night.


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione leaned on her desk, her head propped up on one hand. Her eyes were rapidly scanning a large tome in front of her, pausing occasionally to flip the page. Her hair was more voluminous than usual, her tie loose and askew. The ink-speckled fingers of her spare hand drummed the desk restlessly. Her nails were bitten down short (a terrible nervous habit, she'd thought she'd shaken years ago).

Hermione identified herself as the person that had knowledge. The person that could always find the answers. It was shaking her that she had still not found a solution to Harry's underwater breathing issue.

She spent most of her time in the library when not in class. Harry joined her as much as he could, though was hampered by his press commitments for the Tournament as well as his tendency to score detentions from Snape. He was also very behind in almost all of his classes, likely a result of the pressure he was buckling under.

No, Hermione could find the answer.

She always found the answer.

Hermione paused, scrunching her nose up and rubbing her forehead with the heel of her hand.

She sighed lightly, puffing a lock of curly hair off her face.

A chair scraped nearby and she looked up from her book to see Gabrielle Delacour hopping into a chair at the same library table.

Hermione blinked, sitting up in her seat. She had a slight headache and her eyes felt tired from staring at faded texts all day.

"Hello, Gabrielle," Hermione greeted, stifling a yawn.

"You look sleepy," Gabrielle commented, pulling out her copy of Hogwarts: A History.

"I am a bit," Hermione admitted, "How are you?"

"Bien!" Gabrielle chirped, "I am on to my second read of zis book!"

Hermione smiled warmly. Gabrielle really did remind her of a young Hermione Granger at times. She hadn't met anyone else who had ever read Hogwarts: A History all the way through before, let alone more than once.

"It only gets better with each read, I promise," Hermione encouraged. Gabrielle grinned, before pouting adorably.

"I feel like I 'aven't seen you for ages," Gabrielle told the bright witch, "You only ever see Fleur."

Hermione felt her face get a little warm at that. Her crush for Fleur was still very much in full swing, she just conveniently pushed it to the back of her mind most of the time.

"Well… Er… Gabrielle, that is because I'm helping Fleur with her English," Hermione replied evenly, glancing down at her book.

"I know," Gabrielle groaned, "She is so insistent on not being interrupted when she practises. I walked in on 'er practising saying your name properly and she got so mad!"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up and the heat in her face bloomed warmer.

Gabrielle giggled.

"Zat is exactly 'ow she looked when I walked in on 'er doing it!" Gabrielle exclaimed, clapping her hands together in amusement.

Hermione laughed awkwardly, her mind beginning to twist and turn at this new information.

Hermione's laughter trailed off as her gaze roamed from Gabrielle's face to the bookshelf behind her. An emerald green tie. A uniform-clad Slytherin skulking around the shelves.

Hermione's gaze hardened as she registered Pansy Parkinson. She hadn't seen the girl since she had kissed her in the hallway. Pansy had either been skipping meals or sitting at the furthest ends of classrooms, pointedly pretending she couldn't see Hermione at all.

But now, her dark hair shiny and impeccable, Pansy was skulking around this rarely-visited part of the library. Her grey eyes were on Gabrielle, before moving to lock with Hermione's.

Hermione affixed a false smile on her face, turning to Gabrielle.

"You know, nobody ever talks about it—but there is a second volume of Hogwarts: A History. It's over in the shelves nearest Madam Pince's desk," Hermione told the girl, "You should go and get it out!"

"Wow! Okay!" Gabrielle exclaimed, bounding out of her chair. She disappeared into the shelves within a split second, eager to get her hands on the book.

Hermione sighed, relaxing her shoulders. By the time she took her eyes off the spot where Gabrielle had disappeared, Pansy was already standing at the other end of the library table.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked, dropping all warmth from her tone.

Parkinson was lucky Hermione hadn't had a chance to track her down and confront her. Lucky that she'd distracted Hermione so thoroughly with the kiss that Hermione had momentarily dropped the subject of the textbook and notes.

"I… I wanted to say…"

Normally steely grey eyes were uncertain. There was not a hint of mocking or smugness in them for once.

Hermione usually felt bad watching someone flounder uncomfortably in a conversation. But in this case, she was more than happy to watch Parkinson drown. She kept her silence, quietly watching Pansy.

Pansy swallowed deeply, starting again.

"I didn't take your stupid books," Pansy said finally, pulling nervously at her emerald and silver tie.

"Sure," Hermione replied simply, sarcastically.

She'd been caught off-guard enough times by Parkinson for the year. Baited into responding and letting her temper get the best of her. This time she was going to avoid engaging with the Slytherin. At least until she knew what she was up to.

The silence extended. Thickened.

Pansy's eyes couldn't stay still on Hermione. They would only ever rest briefly, before flitting to other places in the library. She tugged her tie. Cleared her throat.

Still, Hermione refrained from speaking. She wouldn't give Pansy the satisfaction.

"I didn't mean to kiss you either," Pansy finally muttered.

Hermione scoffed.

"Look, I don't know what you're playing at, Parkinson," Hermione said evenly, "You're not going to throw me off."

Pansy's face twitched.

"I'm not trying to throw you off!" Pansy snapped, "I don't have your stuff and I definitely didn't mean to kiss you!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed further as Pansy stamped her foot, turning on her heel and marching away into the depths of the library.

Hermione would never make the mistake of taking a Slytherin at their word.

It was only when Hermione exhaled heavily and leaned back in her chair that she became aware of the small blonde girl standing by a nearby shelf. Gabrielle had Hogwarts: Even More History tucked under one slight arm. Her big blue eyes were wide with innocent surprise.

Oh, Merlin.

Hermione rubbed at her ink-stained fingers. They perpetually seemed to be stained. She couldn't quite keep them blemish free. She eyed her chewed down nails with dissatisfaction.

Hermione was in her last class before lunch: Defence Against The Dark Arts. The class was almost over and Hermione was looking forward to it. Ron had convinced Hermione and Harry to give their fearful study for once and take a walk around the Black Lake. The weather was only worsening by the day, but soon the winter would be in full swing and they wouldn't be able to enjoy walks outside as easily.

Moody limped around the classroom, dumping their essays on their desks with their marks.

Hermione was looking forward to getting back her essay on the rights of The Undead. It had been a fascinating research topic, further stoking her fierce interest in magical creatures and the laws around them.

Harry had written on Grindylows, a topic that Moody had encouraged him towards. The poor scruffy boy had been so wild with stress that Moody had come and offered some guidance after a lesson one day. Hermione was naturally suspicious, but hadn't had any further run-ins with Moody to build her case against him.

Moody dropped Ron's essay on his desk. Ron had—in a blind panic at the eleventh hour—written on the Great Squid. Hermione noted (with absolutely no surprise) that Moody had scratched a big red 'Poor' on it. Of course Ron had failed.

Harry had fared surprisingly well. Probably due to the amount of time he was spending poring through books on anything related to underwater life, Harry had an 'Exceeds Expectations' scrawled on the front of his essay.

Hermione waited patiently, hoping for another 'Outstanding.' So far she had only received 'Outstanding' in all her tests and assignments for the year. She was hoping to keep that streak going.

Moody limped in front of her desk, his pale blue glass eye wildly swirling. There was a fluttering of paper as he dropped her essay unceremoniously on her desk.

Hermione felt her breath choke in her throat.

"Dreadful?!" Hermione questioned shrilly, drawing looks from her classmates. She couldn't believe it. She had put so much work into it and gone the extra mile.

"Suggesting human rights installed for The Undead? Bit far, Granger. I think you missed the point of the assignment." Moody grunted.

"The assignment was on any topic we wanted!" Hermione screeched. She couldn't believe this.

Moody clunked to the front of the classroom.

"What is this class called, Granger?" Moody asked, turning on his claw footed wooden leg. He licked his lips quickly.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts, sir," Hermione answered quickly, "But—"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," Moody boomed, clunking his way across the front of the classroom, "Training you to defend yourselves against dangerous spells and creatures…" Moody announced, turning again to face the class, "Not to bloody hug them!"

Hermione could hear the Slytherins smirking. She raised her hand.

"But, sir—"

Moody cut her off again.

"Constant vigilance!" Moody insisted with a growl, "Class dismissed."

The students filed out. Hermione stuffed her paper angrily in her satchel. She'd never got a D in her entire time at Hogwarts. It was a blemish on her impeccable record.

Harry and Ron were watching her, looking a little cautious. Hermione waited until they were safely out the doors of the castle and away from prying ears until she broke her silence.

"There is more than one way to keep peace and promote safety!" Hermione snapped, "Beating down magical creatures and treating them like second-class citizens is hardly going to stop the dangerous tensions between them and wizards!"

Ron raised his large hands, shaking his head.

"Hey, 'Mione, we're not Moody," Ron defended, tugging his thick woollen cloak around him.

"It's ridiculous!" Hermione continued, "For someone that Dumbledore and the others speak so highly of to hold views like that—"

"Mum and Dad always said he was a bit funny these days," Ron interjected with a shrug, "He's probably just off his rocker."

"I just think there is something seriously wrong with him," Hermione insisted, "I swear, if you'd seen his behaviour those times I came across him on his own—"

"Great, so Harry reckons Snape is out to kill him each year and now you reckon Moody has out for you," Ron replied, "How come there's no professors out to get me then, eh?"

"Maybe you're not important enough," Harry retorted, breaking his silence. Thankfully, instead of hurting Ron's ego, it merely resulted in a small playful shoving match between the two boys.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

The boys tussled for a several minutes, neither giving up, before deciding that the best course of action was to head to the Gryffindor Common Room to settle things over a game of Exploding Snap.

Hermione was invited, of course. But after the tough blow of receiving a D for an assignment, Hermione rather preferred the option of a solo walk around the Black Lake. She bid goodbye to the boys, wrapping her woollen cloak tighter around herself.

It was a clear day, but cold. The weather was starting to get more and more brisk as the weeks passed on. Hermione shivered.

Thankfully, she had the burning sense of injustice to keep her warm. She couldn't believe Moody. A man supposedly endorsed by Dumbledore? There was something seriously off about him.

Hermione's steps became more forceful, until she was all but stamping around the perimeter of the lake in annoyance. It would have been a comical sight, but Hermione had strayed well past the edges usually frequented by students.

It was only about halfway through her lunch hour when she reached the furthest edge of the lake, surrounded by brush and weeds.

It was at this point that Hermione felt sufficiently far away from others to let herself curse out loud.

"Fucking Moody!" Hermione growled.

She heard a rustling in response, behind some tall bushes but near the water's edge.

Hermione quickly whipped out her wand.

"Wh-who's there?" Hermione called out.

It would be just her luck to run into Moody yet again. Hermione decided to bite the bullet, calling on her Gryffindor courage and pushing past the bushes to see where the noise had come from.

"H-Hermione?"

Fleur Delacour, of all people, was standing by the water's edge. Despite the freezing weather, Fleur was clad in a bikini of all things. The bikini was a light blue and relatively modest.

However, Hermione had definitely not been prepared to stumble across a semi-clad Fleur. Her face reddened and she quickly averted her eyes, looking instead at the small pile of clothes in the grass. Fleur's uniform.

"Er—Um—What are you doing?" Hermione asked shakily, using all her self control to keep her gaze firmly on the grass, "And, er, dressed like that? It's freezing!"

"Oui, it is," Fleur agreed, "But I have cast a warming charm on myself. I am not very good with the cold. Or with being wet and cold, really. I need to practice…"

Ah. For the Second Task. Fleur evidently knew that she would need to stay in the depths of the Black Lake too. Hermione wondered if she had worked out a method of breathing underwater yet.

"Still – shouldn't you practice in a safer area?" Hermione asked, "You know—near other people in case something goes wrong?"

Fleur snorted.

"Please, the boys here do not leave me alone when I am fully clothed as it is," Fleur replied.

Hermione waited for her to continue, but heard a loud splash instead.

"Fleur!" Hermione exclaimed, finally allowing herself to look up, "It'll be bloody freezing in there!"

Hermione rushed to the edge of the water, concern etched into her features.

Fleur was floating idly in the water, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"The warming charm works!" Fleur said triumphantly, "Now to try diving underwater."

"Sure, but be careful—" Hermione started, interrupted by Fleur disappearing under the water with a couple of quick splashes.

"Warming charms never last long…" Hermione finished lamely.

She stared at the water as the ripples slowly settled. Fleur was quite athletic, she didn't know why she should be surprised she was also a good swimmer. She probably even enjoyed swimming if the water was warm…

Hermione let her mind wander to thoughts of Fleur in the bath in the Prefect's bathrooms. How warm and soft Fleur's bare skin had felt against hers…

Hermione shook her head, unwilling to be distracted.

She bit her lip.

Fleur had been under the water for a while now. Hermione wondered if she was okay.

The brunette watched the idle waters of the Black Lake, sloshing lazily. It really was a bitingly cold day. Anyone diving into that lake would be faced with an absolutely paralysing gut-punch of coldness—let alone someone who was predisposed to struggle with the cold.

"Fleur?" Hermione called out.

The water did not stir.

"Fleur?!" Hermione called out, louder.

She didn't know how long Fleur could make her warming charms last, but Hermione certainly couldn't make her own ones last this long.

"Fleur?!" Hermione shouted.

No response.

Hermione felt a hard ball of fear plummet in her stomach. This was the furthest end of the lake. Leaving to get help would only secure Fleur's fate if she was in trouble.

"Oh, Circe help me," Hermione groaned, loosening her tie with two quick yanks. She tossed it to the ground, near Fleur's clothes.


	15. Chapter 15

The cold hit Hermione like a sack of bricks to the gut. Dazed and breathless, Hermione took a moment to open her eyes under the water.

Freezing. Absolutely, bloody freezing.

Hermione's jaw locked as she willed her protesting body to adjust. _Just push through._

Hermione didn't have to get too far in the lake before she found Fleur. Whatever warming spell she had used had appeared to have worn off, judging by her appearance.

Fleur had pale, creamy skin ordinarily. But its pallor now was concerning. She looked drained of blood, floating in the water like a beautiful ghost.

Hermione felt a jolt of panic through her system.

Hermione didn't have time to think, grabbing Fleur roughly around the torso and beginning to propel herself as hard as she could towards the surface.

_'Come on, come on… She can't go out like this… This isn't the way that someone as lively as Fleur is meant to go…'_ Hermione tried to still the panicked thoughts whipping around her mind. She focussed on kicking as hard as she could in the cold water.

Hermione gasped as they broke the surface of the lake, not pausing in her frantic kicks as she pulled Fleur to the shore. The blonde was still alarmingly unresponsive, her skin cold against Hermione.

Hermione was getting a stitch in her side as she made it to the shore. She ignored it, clumsily pulling herself and Fleur out of the water.

She pulled Fleur onto her back in the grass, instantly kneeling beside her. She tried to rack her brain for spells that could help.

No.

All she knew for these situations was the CPR she had learned during her Muggle schooling. Better than nothing.

Hermione thumped Fleur's chest desperately before beginning to administer two-handed presses. She hoped like hell the cold of Fleur's body was from the water, and not an indication of lack of life.

Hermione counted the rhythmic pushes before pausing. She didn't have time to consider the awkwardness of this part— any faltering could cost Fleur her life.

Hermione cocked Fleur's chin up, allowing her airway maximum room to breathe. Even with blueing lips and wet hair, Fleur looked beautiful. It sent an ache through Hermione's heart as she dropped her lips to Fleur's.

This wasn't how she pictured kissing Fleur.

Hermione, pushing breath into Fleur, squeezed her eyes shut. She hoped this wouldn't be the last chance _anyone_ would have to kiss Fleur.

Hermione couldn't ignore how cold Fleur's lips were to the touch. It unsettled her.

She returned to her presses to Fleur's chest. _One. Two. Three. Four._ Hermione diligently kept to the pace she had learned at school.

Hermione's own heart rate spiked exponentially with each cycle of chest-presses and breaths she administered. This couldn't be it. _Couldn't…_

Thankfully, finally, on Hermione's fourth set of urgent presses to Fleur's chest, the blonde came alive again with a flail and cough. She was choking. Hermione turned Fleur on her side as the blonde gagged and coughed up the murky water of the Black Lake.

"Fleur!" Hermione gasped, "Thank God!"

A wave of sweet relief was rushing through her, draining her of the adrenaline that had been keeping her going. As Fleur struggled to sit up, Hermione fell into her, wrapping her arms around the blonde.

"Wh-wh-what 'appened?" Fleur asked from between chattering teeth. Hermione summoned the last of her energy to pull her nearby woollen cloak around the two of them. She held Fleur tightly, trying to transfer as much of her own body heat to the blonde as possible.

"I don't know, you didn't come back," Hermione said, trying to hide the sheer emotion from her voice, "I came in after you and found you passed out in the water."

"O-O-Oh," Fleur replied, shivering into Hermione's body. She was clinging to Hermione's body like she was the last life-preserver in a storm, "I… I struggle with freezing conditions… Coldness overwhelms me easily."

Hermione bit back the 'I know' on the tip of her tongue. Now _definitely_ wasn't the time to bring up the book on Veela. Instead, she hummed her acknowledgement, instead focussing on rubbing her hands over Fleur, trying to warm her up faster. Her palms rubbed firm circles over Fleur's shoulder's under the cloak, then her ribs, then her back. Fleur's skin was still very cold and had broken out in goosebumps. The blonde was shivering, quite helpless and pathetic in Hermione's arms.

"If you know coldness overwhelms you so easily, why did you throw yourself in there like that?" Hermione asked, unable to bite the question back, "Why put your life on the line? You knew there was a good chance your warming spells would wear off… You knew there was a good chance that if you succumbed to the cold, whatever charm you used to protect yourself from drowning could fail too."

Fleur didn't reply, still shivering violently. She buried her face into Hermione's neck as Hermione rubbed her lower back.

Hermione could feel the coldness of Fleur's lips and nose brushing her neck. She already had goosebumps herself from the cold, but the sensation of Fleur's face nestled into her neck was just causing her to feel even more tingly. Her hands drifted a little lower on Fleur's back until she felt the top of Fleur's bikini bottoms, causing her to blush deeply and come to her senses.

"Magic!" Hermione blurted out, wrenching herself away from the blonde.

"Quoi?" Fleur, wrapping Hermione's cloak around herself more tightly, looked confused.

Hermione stumbled awkwardly in her rush to get up and remove herself from the blonde's body. She tripped, grazing her knee, before half crawling to grab her wand.

"I-I should be using magic," Hermione half-explained. She turned back to Fleur, casting a warming spell carefully over the blonde. She followed it with a drying spell before turning to herself.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid…" Hermione muttered to herself under her breath. She turned away from Fleur to hide her blushing face. People called her the Brightest Witch of her Age. What would they say if they could see how dense she was being now?

Hermione felt like slapping her hand to her forehead. In all her rush to save Fleur and the distraction of soothing the blonde in her arms, basic concepts such as magic had flown out of her mind. She had even forgotten her own state of partial undress. Hermione blushed deeper, rapidly grabbing her uniform from the grass nearby.

Hermione could swear she felt Fleur's eyes on her body and it made her feel even more self conscious. She wasn't as slight as Fleur. She wasn't as gorgeous as Fleur. She had smatters of freckles on her shoulders and face.

She pulled her shirt and skirt on quickly, followed by socks and shoes. She hadn't buttoned a shirt so quickly in her life, only turning around once she had begun to tie her tie back up.

Hermione ignored the teasing feeling of disappointment as she saw that Fleur was also clothed again. She looked a _lot_ better than when she had first come out of the lake, but still seemed cold. She shivered in her thin silk uniform, fumbling as she fastened her top buttons.

Hermione tied her tie deftly, pulling it into a loose knot. She frowned at how much Fleur was struggling with her buttons. Her hands must be too cold for her fingers to work properly.

Without thinking, Hermione's bossy side took over. She stepped forward and into Fleur's personal space, using both hands to pull Fleur's hands away from the final button of her uniform shirt.

"Let me," Hermione instructed. She slipped the shiny button through the hole in the silk, covering the dip where Fleur's collarbones met.

Fleur's uniform didn't have a tie, but did have a loose strip of silk on each side of her neck, that the Beauxbatons girls tied into neat pussybows. Hermione took a strip of silk in each hand, slowly tying the fabric into a bow.

As she finished, she became aware that Fleur hadn't seemed to have breathed in a while. Hermione's warm brown eyes flicked up, alert. They instantly connected with bright blue.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, concerned.

Fleur let out a shaky sigh, colour returning to her face.

"Oui," Fleur replied unsteadily, "Just… Thank you."

Hermione took a step back, watching Fleur curiously. There was something a little off about the French girl. She still seemed a little out of breath and now had a strange redness to her cheeks.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Hermione asked, she cast another warming spell over her companion, worried she was still not feeling well.

"Oui," Fleur said, averting her bright blue eyes, "I… I hate that the cold affects me so easily."

"Well," Hermione hummed sympathetically, "This could help."

She had spotted the scarlet and gold scarf she had leant Fleur, lying on the grass beside Fleur's wand. She picked them both up and handed them to the blonde.

"Ah, merci" Fleur said delicately, still not quite looking at Hermione. She wrapped the scarf around her neck and pocketed her wand.

Hermione picked up her slightly damp robes from the ground, casting another drying spell before pulling them over her uniform. She cast a sidelong look at Fleur, who, though warmer, was still shivering.

"Maybe we should take you to Madam Pomfrey just to get checked over," Hermione suggested.

"Non!" Fleur snapped immediately, before her features softened again.

Hermione shrugged, unsure what to say to that. She picked up her satchel and began to walk back towards the castle. To her inner pleasure, Fleur followed alongside her.

She loved talking to Fleur. Trying to get her to lower her guard. But, honestly, she got a funny kind of thrill just from being in the proximity of the blonde— even if they weren't talking. It was a feeling she was growing to be addicted to. A giddy flutter deep in her stomach.

Fleur, silent now, moved closer to her, looping an arm through Hermione's. She leaned against the brunette as they walked.

_'It's a Veela thing… She has a natural instinct to draw close to others for warmth,'_ Hermione told herself, trying not to stumble or choke on her own saliva. She didn't want to look stupid in front of the blonde. Being overwhelmed at mere physical closeness would definitely make her look stupid.

Fleur seemed to take Hermione's silence for deep thought or offense, as she cleared her throat.

"I didn't mean to snap at you," Fleur said apologetically, "The cold thing… It is a Veela thing. She would not be able to help."

"Oh," Hermione replied lamely. She kept quiet, hoping to encourage Fleur to open up a little more.

They walked through some tall bushes together, nearing the castle. Fleur's grip on Hermione's arm was tight, like she found Hermione comforting. Hermione liked the notion of that.

"I… I'm scared," Fleur admitted, "You couldn't dream up a task that is less suited to a Veela if you tried. Freezing water? Taking someone close to a Veela? I was so confident about the First Task and thought I did quite well. But this task? It is almost as if someone has devised a task designed to make a part-Veela fail."

"I'm sure it seems worse than it is," Hermione attempted to allay the blonde's fears.

She was feeling a little guilty that despite Fleur opening up to her about her fears, Hermione's heart wouldn't stop thumping heavily at the blonde having her arm looped through her own.

Fleur shook her head vigorously.

"It is almost textbook! What do Veela hate? Water and cold," Fleur growled, "It feels so unfair! Not only do I have to face the same challenges as the other competitors, but I have to fight my very nature!"

Hermione, not knowing what to say, squeezed Fleur's arm sympathetically. It seemed to work, ending Fleur's tirade. The blonde relaxed against Hermione a little.

"If anyone can find a way to work around an extra challenge, it's you," Hermione said encouragingly.

They were nearing the front of the castle now, close to the steps of the Entrance Hall.

"Thank you," Fleur said, "And thank you for, ah, saving me. As embarrassing as that is."

"Don't be embarrassed," Hermione insisted, as Fleur withdrew her arm and stepped away from the brunette.

Fleur stood, shuffling in her heels, seemingly restless. Yet she didn't make a move to leave.

"Your pronunciation is getting so good," Hermione commented, hoping to get the blonde to cheer up a little. It seemed to work, as Fleur's features softened enough to offer a slight smile.

"I have a good teacher," Fleur said warmly, causing a flurry of butterflies to erupt in Hermione's stomach, "Thanks again."

Fleur, without any warning to Hermione, leant in closely. Hermione froze, suppressing an undignified 'eep' from escaping her mouth. The blonde's full lips, definitely warm now, pressed softly against Hermione's cheek.

Hermione felt a terrific pang shoot through her, despite it being such a chaste act. As giddiness kicked in, Hermione couldn't stop the large goofy smile that overtook her features.

Fleur pulled away again, smiling softly as she pulled the Gryffindor scarf tighter around her neck.

"Erm—" Hermione was at a loss for words, mortified as she felt her cheeks heat up.

"I will see you at our next lesson," Fleur said, a slight smirk in her features.

Hermione suppressed an eye roll. Fleur's ego was back all right. It was quite cute though.

* * *

Hermione rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand. She was in her final class of the day. The terrible grade from Moody had left a foul taste in her mouth, but it had been eased by her interaction with Fleur.

Her mind kept replaying Fleur's arm looped through hers. Her semi-nude body clinging to her own as she fought to regain her breath and warmth.

Hermione's face warmed again and she dropped her eyes to the parchment in front of her.

Charms was usually a class she was very engaged in.

Should she have insisted that Fleur see Madam Pomfrey just in case? It didn't seem very responsible not to tell a staff member about a student almost drowning on the grounds over lunchtime.

Hermione tapped the tip of her quill against the parchment as she thought.

She could always check in with Fleur later. To see if she was okay. Yes, purely to see if she was feeling okay. It was the only responsible option, after all.

"You okay?" Harry asked, nudging her with an elbow.

Professor Flitwick had just asked them to pair off to practice a charm that, when cast correctly, would conjure a type of alarm after a set period of time. Hermione almost rolled her eyes at it. It seemed a hell of a convoluted way to set an alarm instead of just buying a watch or alarm clock. Sometimes it truly baffled her which elements of culture and technology wizarding kind chose to adopt, and which they did not. She would never understand the acceptance of lighters and stovetops but rejection of electricity and alarm clocks.

"I'm okay," Hermione replied, "I just think I have finally found a Charms lesson I really don't care for."

"I don't think I've ever seen you less engaged in classes than I have this year," Harry commented, his green eyes flicking over from the blackboard to look at his friend again, "Are you upset about that rubbish mark Moody gave you? Ron's already written a letter to his mum about how off it was for Moody to say such a thing."

Hermione's expression darkened as she recalled Defence Against the Dark Arts. She was seriously starting to think there was something not right about Moody… But she could turn her attention to that later.

"No," Hermione replied, cautiously looking around the classroom. Most of their classmates were very distracted. Seamus Finnegan, who had paired up with Ron, had somehow got his wand to emit the shrill alarm at five second intervals and couldn't work out how to get it to stop.

Hermione, in low tones, took the opportunity to tell Harry about Fleur almost drowning at the lake. Harry listened attentively, his eyes wide.

"So, she cast a warming spell, I know that one," Harry finally said, "But what did she use to breathe underwater? Did you see her do something for that?"

"I'm not sure, Harry, it all happened very fast. She might not have even cast one if she was only planning on doing a short dive," Hermione replied.

Harry sighed, sinking his head onto his desk and cradling it in his arms.

"That doesn't help me," Harry groaned.

Hermione frowned.

"Harry Potter, I'm telling you that I almost witnessed someone drown and that they could be roaming around the castle with hypothermia and you have the gall to whine about me not jotting down the details of the spell she might have used?!" Hermione snapped.

Harry peeked up from his arms sheepishly, his unruly jet black hair and guilty bespectacled eyes all that Hermione could see.

"Sorry, 'Mione," Harry mumbled, "It's just… I think you might be watching another person drown in the lake if I don't figure out what to do…"

"Well you'll definitely be needing to practice your warming charms," Hermione replied, shuddering at the memory, "It was painfully freezing in there. As reckless as it was, Fleur probably had the right idea about doing a couple of practice dives so you can get used to it."

"I have seen Krum hanging out by the lake a lot," Harry said suspiciously, raising his head up from his arms, "So warming charms… Right. What about the oxygen problem? D'ya think Fleur might be willing to-"

"Absolutely _not_ , Harry!" Hermione replied shrilly, relieved that Seamus' wand was still providing a fantastic cover for their conversation, "She's barely forgiven me for the research thing… I'm not about to bowl on in and use her friendship all over again."

"Fine, fine," Harry said, raising his hands defensively, "I suppose I do still have quite a bit of time left to figure it all out…"

Hermione, unconvinced, did not comment. Harry had a terrible habit of convincing himself he had more time than he did in order to work things out— homework included.

* * *

Hermione felt like a bit of a fool, pacing around outside of the library. The truth was, she couldn't quite commit to studying when she was worried about Fleur.

She hadn't seen Fleur since the incident at lunch. The blonde hadn't shown for dinner and Hermione hadn't seen her around the hallways— which she usually did. She hadn't even seen a _hint_ of fawning students around the building, apart from Viktor Krum's lovestruck fans.

Hermione had a horrible feeling that perhaps something was wrong. Or if it wasn't, maybe Fleur was actively avoiding her? Was she embarrassed about doing something so reckless?

"'Ermione,"

Hermione turned around, spotting entirely the wrong Delacour she was looking for. Gabrielle, an impish smile on her face, was just leaving the library with a stack of books under her arm and bulging out of her backpack.

"Hi, Gabrielle, how are you?" Hermione greeted politely, "This seems a little late for you to be out at the library… and on your own?"

"Fleur was supposed to take me but she isn't feeling well," Gabrielle pouted, "She's all bundled up in bed and won't do a single thing with me."

Hermione suppressed a smile at the sulkiness of the small child, instead focussing on the news about Fleur.

"She isn't well? Has she seen Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione asked, concerned.

Gabrielle shook her head, her pretty blonde hair fanning wildly.

"It is not always appropriate for 'uman 'ealers to attend to part-Veela," Gabrielle said cryptically, before changing the subject, "Besides, she is just feeling cold. She will get over it."

Hermione wondered if a severe exposure to cold had a long-lasting effect on a Veela. She couldn't remember reading that in the textbook, but then it would be naive to assume every fact on the creatures was contained in there. She considered pressing Gabrielle for answers before deciding against it. She had done enough prying into Veela to make Fleur uncomfortable already.

"Well, shall we bring her a hot chocolate or a tea?" Hermione suggested instead, trying to turn her mind to small ways she could help.

Gabrielle nodded enthusiastically.

"But ze Great 'All is closed," Gabrielle said slyly, "Does zat mean we will 'ave to go to ze 'idden 'Ogwarts kitchens? I 'ave been trying to figure out where zey are, but zere is no mention of zem in eizer of ze books on 'Ogwarts."

Hermione smiled, gesturing for Gabrielle to follow her.

"Well, it just so happens that two boys even more mischievous than you told me how to get there," Hermione teased, enjoying the excited wiggle this induced in the small girl at her side.

Despite being waylaid by some friendly Hufflepuffs that stopped to comment on the sheer volume of books that Gabrielle was carrying, the two girls made it to the kitchens in good time. Hermione encouraged Gabrielle to put down her backpack and books, before hoisting her up so she could have the honour of tickling the pear image on the wall that would reveal the kitchen.

Hermione couldn't help but smile widely as Gabrielle excitedly jumped up and down as the Hogwarts kitchens revealed themselves.

"Hush, you will spook the house elves," Hermione teased, causing Gabrielle to stop and stare at her in wide-eyed wonderment.

"Hogwarts has house elves?" Gabrielle gasped, "Isn't that… _Using_ creatures?"

"Don't get me started," Hermione frowned, "I still have a bone to pick with Dumbledore about it when I get the chance."

"No picking of boneses required, Miss Grangey," Dobby the house elf announced as he appeared in front of them. He was dressed in what appeared to be a lumpy red tea cosy, bright purple fluffy socks and a bonnet. He bowed deeply in front of the two girls.

"Oh, hello Dobby," Hermione greeted, "This is Gabrielle Delacour."

"Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Miss Deli-corr" Dobby greeted, bowing deeply again, "I couldn't help but overhear Miss Deli-corr. I want to assure you that Dobby is a free elf. Harry Potter freed Dobby. Now Dobby is his own elf."

Dobby puffed his chest out proudly.

Hermione could see a few other house elves further in the kitchen shooting Dobby looks of disbelief. It seemed they were still getting used to Dobby's way of life.

"Zat is amazing!" Gabrielle replied, stepping forward and shaking Dobby's hand enthusiastically.

"Thank you Miss Deli-corr," Dobby replied proudly, before turning his large eyes to Hermione, "Now, can I do anything to help the Misses Grangey and Deli-corr?"

"Oh, erm, we were after a thermos of hot chocolate," Hermione told Dobby, "But we can make it ourselves if you point us to the ingredients. We wouldn't want to put you out."

"It does not put Dobby out!" Dobby informed Hermione cheerfully, "Dobby loves preparing food and drink!"

With a small _crack_ , Dobby disappeared and reappeared deeper in the kitchen, setting to work heating up a small pot of milk on a stovetop immediately.

Hermione turned to Gabrielle, smiling and shaking her head.

"He's an eccentric one," Hermione informed the small blonde, "But a very decent elf. He's looked out for Harry in the past."

"I like Dobby," Gabrielle informed Hermione with a large grin.

In no time at all, Hermione was presented with a small thermos of hot chocolate, courtesy of Dobby. Helping Gabrielle with her mountain of books, Hermione then led the small blonde out of the castle and to the Beauxbatons carriage.

Hermione checked her watch worriedly as Gabrielle took her to her room to deposit the books. She still had a little time before curfew. She was a little annoyed that she didn't have Harry's Invisibility Cloak at hand or she would be free to stay as long as she wanted.

"Shall I take you to Fleur's room?" Gabrielle offered, "I should warn you, she gets moody when she doesn't feel well."

"I can deal with that," Hermione said with a faint smile, following the small Veela out of her own bedroom and further down the halls.

Gabrielle's room had been small, a bookshelf, a desk and a single bed. Various books, toys, drawings and papers littered the room. When they reached Fleur's room, even her door looked far more elegant.

It was painted white and had a complicated handle that was made of twisted strands of gold.

"Ze Champion gets ze best accommodation," Gabrielle explained, "As a reward for being chosen by ze goblet."

"I see," Hermione said vaguely. It certainly seemed a lot fancier than the other doors she had seen during her brief trip into the carriage to bring the drunk Julie home, "Will I get in trouble for being here?"

As if on cue, a door opened further down the hallway. A Ravenclaw boy backed out of a room, hastily re-tying his tie. Hermione could hear feminine giggling.

Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

"If you did, you wouldn't be ze only one," Gabrielle informed her. She stepped forward, rapping in a strangely specific rhythm on the door. "So ze door knows it is me," Gabrielle explained.

There was a pause before a light clunking inside the door sounded. The door was unlocking itself in response to Gabrielle's knock. Hermione was fascinated.

"Gabrielle?"

Fleur's voice rang out from inside the room. Gabrielle opened the door before shoving Hermione lightly.

"Are you not coming?" Hermione asked, bewildered.

"I've 'ad enough of 'er mood for one day," Gabrielle shrugged, "Besides, I 'ave some good books to read in my room."

Hermione swallowed, nodding.

She turned back to the room. It seemed dimly lit inside, dark but for some candles. Biting her lip and summoning her Gryffindor courage, Hermione stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

If Hermione thought the door was elegant, she was not prepared for the room. Fleur's bedroom was a large room with polished hardwood floors, a lavish fireplace and a large double bed. There was a desk by some windows, as well as a large dresser with a small seat in front of it. The top of the dresser was littered in expensive looking beauty products. There was an expensive looking rug on the floor in front of the fireplace.

The fire was blazing, casting shadows around the room.

"You are not Gabrielle," Fleur stated.

Hermione focussed her attention on the bed. Fleur was propped up against a number of plump pillows and cushions, a book in her hands. She appeared paler than usual, but otherwise fine. A number of candles on her bedside table further illuminated her delicate features.

Fleur was dressed in a deep sapphire long sleeved silk pyjama shirt. Hermione wondered idly if they were Beauxbatons-issue. Her voluminous covers were pulled up to her waist. Hermione wondered how she could stand it with the heat from the fire as well.

"Gabrielle said you were not feeling well," Hermione explained, "I came to bring you something to help."

"Unless it is a time-turner to stop me being so stupid at the lake, I'm not interested," Fleur sniffed, turning her head away from Hermione.

"What's wrong with you?" Hermione asked boldly, walking over to the bed.

"I'm cold," Fleur replied, gritting her teeth, "I can't seem to shake the feeling."

"Is this… Er, normal?" Hermione asked, coming up to the edge of the bed.

Fleur cast a wary side-long glance at Hermione.

"Sometimes," Fleur replied cryptically, "For Veela who have got too cold, it takes a while to shake the sensation. I will be fine again soon enough."

"Oh, well," Hermione replied awkwardly, "This might help a little… At least for a moment."

Hermione brandished the silver thermos forward, offering it to Fleur.

Fleur was always quite inquisitive, but her sapphire eyes seemed even more curious as she looked at the thermos.

"What is it?" Fleur asked suspiciously.

"Hot chocolate," Hermione said, still holding it out.

Fleur stared at it, still eying it curiously.

"For Pete's sake!" Hermione sighed. Without even thinking, she swung herself onto the bed, sitting on top of the covers beside Fleur. She unscrewed the lid of the thermos and took a swig herself, "See? Standard hot chocolate. It will warm you up a bit."

Fleur was still looking at her, a little confused now.

"Why, though?" Fleur asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Because I care about you and don't want you to feel rubbish," Hermione snorted, pushing the thermos into Fleur's hands, "Now drink up."

Fleur, finally giving up her reluctance, drank from the thermos. She let out a noise of pleasure, startling Hermione and sending a pang to the bottom of her stomach.

"It's good," Fleur commented, taking a break between gulps, "Very good."

"Th-they made it in the kitchens at Hogwarts," Hermione commented. She inwardly cursed her slight stutter. She _loathed_ that pretty girls made her appear like an idiot, "Feeling warmer?"

Fleur made short work of the rest of the thermos, drinking it down at an alarming rate. Hermione wondered if she had eaten at all— she'd been at the lake during lunch and hadn't been at the Hall for dinner.

Fleur placed the now-empty thermos on her bedside table. She shook her head. Her white-blonde hair was loose and shimmered in the dim light as she moved her head.

"A little, but I still feel chilled to the bone," Fleur replied. She sounded so unhappy, so vulnerable. "I wish I hadn't been so stupid. I didn't think it would be _quite_ that bad."

She shut her eyes tightly as a shiver ran through her. She looked so small and delicate, her impossibly long eyelashes trembling as she scrunched her eyes in discomfort.

"Er, is there anything that I can do to help?" Hermione asked. She wanted to reach out and comfort Fleur. But the blonde didn't trust easily and she didn't want to cross a line with her.

"Cuddle me?" Fleur asked.

Hermione could have fallen off the bed in shock. She looked at Fleur as if she had misheard her. _Surely_ she had misheard her.

"Er… What was that?" Hermione asked. Her head felt like it was spinning.

Fleur was looking away now, blushing a little.

"Just for warmth," Fleur said quickly, "It is so unbearable being this cold."

"Oh, er, well, okay," Hermione said distantly. She felt like her voice sounded strange and faraway.

Swallowing heavily, Hermione kicked off her shoes and took off her robe and jumper before climbing under the covers.

She froze, unsure that she had the nerve to _cuddle_ Fleur Delacour. As if she could sense Hermione's nervousness, Fleur slid over in the bed, wrapping herself around Hermione tightly.

Hermione was lost in a headrush of silk and skin, feeling dangerously like butterflies were about to burst forth from her stomach.

It felt so _good_ to have Fleur wrapped around her. As Fleur rested her head on Hermione's chest, Hermione wondered if everyone clicked together so well when they cuddled.

Hermione worried whether Fleur could hear how hard her heart was pounding, before getting distracted by the sweet lily-vanilla fragrance of Fleur's hair.

It was so warm in Fleur's room. Hermione was so deliciously comfortable. Hermione was vaguely aware of her fingers running through silky hair as she tried in earnest to control her damned hormones.

Fleur's breathing had slowed and her eyes were shut, making Hermione rather suspect the French girl had fallen asleep. It felt a little wrong for Hermione to allow herself to be turned on by a girl cuddling her in her sleep.

Hermione stared at the ceiling of the room, willing her heart to be still and stop pounding.

The room was so incredibly warm.

The fire and candles caused shadows to dance across the ceiling above Hermione and Fleur.

Hermione watched the shadows dance as her eyes got heavier and heavier.

Finally sleep overcame her.


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N: Sorry for the long gap between chapters! Life has been hectic and I've been struggling to write.**_

_**Also! If you are 18+ and like Harry Potter F/F pairings, feel free to join a discord group of like minded souls: discord. gg / d4wgtA5jrA (delete the gaps, I had to chuck them in so AO3 wouldn't auto yeet that link)** _

_**Z x** _

* * *

Fleur awoke slowly.

Her room was still bathed in warm dim light from the fire. She still felt an undercurrent of coldness, but was feeling _so_ much better. A lot of that was due to the warmth radiating from the body next to her. She wrapped herself even more tightly around the figure, sighing contentedly. Her eyes fell shut again.

“Eep,” the figure emitted quietly.

Fleur felt the figure begin to struggle gently in her arms and she yawned, opening her eyes again.

This time she was more aware, taking in the soft chest her face was nestled against and the smell of fresh parchment and citrus. Fleur felt her face warm and she lifted her head up sharply.

It hadn’t been a dream. She _had_ fallen asleep cuddling with Hermione Granger.

Judging by the bright red and choked expression on Hermione’s face, she was a little uncomfortable with their position.

Fleur felt a shiver, entirely unrelated to the cold, run through her. On some level, she’d wanted to end up in this situation with Hermione. But this was not at all how she had imagined it occurring.

Fleur, still waking up properly, registered that one of her thighs was even warmer than the rest of her, pressed firmly between Hermione’s legs. There was a heat radiating from Hermione there that sent a thrill through the blonde. Fleur jerked awkwardly at the realisation of what the heat from between Hermione’s legs meant.

Hermione let out another “eep,” her face reddening further.

Fleur cringed, ducking her head as she withdrew herself from Hermione. She rolled off the trapped girl and sat up on the bed beside her, drawing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around them.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to have an early night— alone— resting up and recuperating after her stupid mistake at the lake.

Hermione’s shallow breaths punctuated the silence between them, causing Fleur’s stomach to squirm wildly.

Why. _Why_ did even the brunette’s _breaths_ set off wild sensations in her body?

“Er, sorry,” Fleur mumbled, “I did not mean to fall asleep and… Ah… Trap you.”

Fleur loathed the way she sounded when she spoke English. Clumsy, infantile, _stupid._ She knew Hermione could understand French, and was sorely tempted to speak in her native tongue to her. _Then_ she could express herself as clearly and as subtly as she wanted to. But that would be like admitting defeat. She wanted to master English. She insisted on excelling in everything she set her mind to. So she persevered.

“I… I was just…”

Fleur felt the English words roll around, clunky on her tongue. How to put into words why she had asked Hermione to cuddle her? Or why she had fallen asleep so easily with the brunette? Fleur was almost infamous at Beauxbatons for her inability to sleep soundly through the night.

Fleur would struggle to put it into words in French, even.

Something about Hermione Granger drew her in. Her warm brown eyes, the wild brunette curls. The cute splashes of freckles that appeared on Hermione’s nose. _And other places…_ A small voice reminded her.

She hadn’t been able to stop her eyes from roaming Hermione’s body when the brunette had been fishing around the grass for her clothes by the lake.

Fleur shut her eyes tightly, steeling herself with a long breath.

The truth was, she didn’t understand what it was about Hermione that drew her in. She just _did._ The brunette was captivating.

Fleur felt a warmth on her hand and her eyes flew open again.

Hermione’s hand was on hers, her brown eyes looking at Fleur with that goddamned sweet, earnest look they had.

“It’s really late,” Hermione said, smiling awkwardly, “I really need to get back to the castle or I’ll get in trouble for being out of the Gryffindor Tower after curfew.”

“I…”

Fleur swallowed. She was sounding stupid again. She wanted nothing more than to ask Hermione to stay. Maybe even to cuddle her from behind in those tanned arms. Fleur scrunched her eyes shut.

She was losing control.

Hermione had deceived her once already, with her covert research on Veela. Fleur knew rationally she shouldn’t jump into trusting her so fully, so quickly, after that. Enough people before Hermione had befriended Fleur with underhanded motives. She needed to tread carefully before she got hurt again.

Fleur winced.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked gently.

Fleur nodded, swallowing heavily.

Did she really like Hermione? Or was Hermione still invoking methods of charming Veela? There were no strawberries or olives to be seen, but that didn’t mean Hermione was not using some kind of inside knowledge to lower her guard.

Fleur frowned at that. She wasn’t some pet cat to be stroked and petted until she rolled over and showed her belly.

Fleur opened her eyes, feeling the silly pang in her stomach as her eyes locked with honey-flecked brown. She found a smile lazing its way across her face, unbidden.

“Are you still feeling cold?” Hermione asked. She brought a hand up to her mouth, chewing on the nail of an ink-stained finger.

A terrible habit. One Fleur might even say was disgusting. Yet, Hermione Granger made it look so _cute._

Fleur shook her head.

She needed to keep a level head.

“Ah, a little,” Fleur admitted. The truth was she had recovered a lot faster after only a few hours of sleeping in Hermione’s arms. The after-effects of the cold were now merely a slight chill at her bones. It was nowhere near as unbearable as it had been before.

Hermione nodded, her eyes roaming Fleur’s body briefly with concern. Concern and the flicker of something else.

“I should go,” Hermione said again, hastily this time. She clambered out of the bed, quickly straightening herself out and getting her shoes on.

Fleur felt the loss of warmth in the bed, frowning a little. She wanted to say something. Ask Hermione to stay. Tell her to go. Fleur bit her lip, conflicted.

Hermione reached the door, looking back at Fleur cautiously.

Fleur didn’t trust herself to speak, instead nodding neutrally.

An unreadable expression flitted across Hermione’s features.

“Well, erm, see you around,” Hermione murmured, before slipping out the door.

Fleur sighed heavily and threw herself back in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. How could one girl make her feel so confused?

Every single instance in Fleur’s life so far had taught her, from a very young age, not to give someone a second chance. Yet here she was, giving Hermione Granger exactly that. Not just that, but letting Hermione into her very bed!

Fleur swore softly.

How many boys and girls had won her over, only to betray her or break her heart? People saw Veela as the ultimate conquest. Something to use and throw away. Something to _hurt._ Somehow people always found it easier to hurt things that weren’t human. Or not entirely human, at least.

Fleur felt the added pressure of Gabrielle’s constant observation. She’d always tried to protect her baby sister and make sure she’d never have to go through anything that she herself had gone through. What kind of example would it set if she openly threw herself at Hermione? Gabrielle would never learn the dangers of trusting someone who had already broken your trust. Fleur shuddered at the thought of teaching Gabrielle to give someone second chances. It was entirely too dangerous when you were part-Veela.

Not to mention what her _mother_ would say.

Apolline Delacour had long ago had her heart broken by the human man that had fathered Fleur and Gabrielle. She’d held a firm distrust of humans ever since.

Apolline’s mother before her had also had her heart broken by a human.

Fleur hardly wanted to be the third Delacour woman in a row to suffer that fate.

Fleur swore again. She was getting ahead of herself. Hermione had merely fallen asleep after bringing her a friendly drink. There was nothing to worry about.

Fleur lay on back against her pillows, staring at the ceiling with a conflicted expression.

* * *

Fleur suffered a poor sleep for the rest of the night, back to her usual tossing and turning. She got up to roam the Beauxbatons Carriage no less than five times, read several chapters of a book, and tried some meditation. It had always been the case that she slept lightly and woke frequently. She hadn’t had a good, deep sleep in some time. Not since she had hit puberty and the thrall had begun to thrum through her.

Apolline had never been able to explain it to Fleur, but simply said in clipped tones that the struggles with sleeping would be worse at times, and better at others. Fleur hated when her mother spoke in such cryptic tones.

Fleur tied the bow of her silk uniform in the mirror, observing her reflection carefully. She cocked her head to one side, satisfied. At least the Veela blood assured she would never outwardly show signs of exhaustion.

Her hair was perfectly straight, the silvery platinum blonde looking satisfyingly silky. Fleur carefully pulled it back and began to plait it over one shoulder.

There was a rhythmic knock at the door before Gabrielle entered.

**“Fleur!”** Gabrielle greeted in French, **“Will you do my hair?”**

Fleur sighed and smiled. Of course. Her baby sister was forever trying to get her to do her hair. Fleur rather suspected it was a gambit so Gabrielle could spend more time with her— which was quite cute, so Fleur didn’t complain.

Fleur finished up her own plait while Gabrielle bounced on the balls of her feet beside her. By the time Fleur turned to her sister, the child was practically buzzing with excitement. Fleur couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. She wished she was still as easily excited by mundane things such as having her hair done.

_But then… She had been easily excited merely by sharing her bed with Hermione Granger just that night…_

Fleur shook her head slightly, trying to push the thoughts of the brunette from her mind.

**“How do you want your hair done today, little duckling?”** Fleur asked, her slender fingers playing with Gabrielle’s hair. Gabrielle pouted adorably.

**“I’m not a duckling,”** Gabrielle insisted imperiously, **“I’m mature. I want a plait. No, _two_ plaits.”**

Gabrielle eyed Fleur’s own plait as she spoke.

Fleur hid her smile, indulging her baby sister.

**“Yes, you are very mature, Gabrielle,”** Fleur agreed, **“And two plaits? That will look twice as good as my single plait.”**

Gabrielle smiled proudly in the mirror as Fleur set to work brushing her hair. Though they were merely a quarter Veela, there was still something sacred about brushing and caring for their hair.

**“Did Hermione stay the night?”** Gabrielle asked curiously, her big blue eyes catching Fleur’s in the mirror. Fleur looked away.

**“She… She stayed a little while,”** Fleur said evasively. She wanted to be very careful when talking about Hermione with Gabrielle, so as not to set a poor example. Fleur would never forgive herself if harm befell Gabrielle from being too trusting.

Gabrielle wiggled her eyebrows ludicrously, causing Fleur to lose her composure and laugh.

**“I think she likes you,”** Gabrielle informed Fleur confidently.

Fleur bit her lip, focussing on plaiting Gabrielle’s hair.

**“I think… I think we must always be careful of the full-blooded humans we get to know,”** Fleur said cautiously.

Gabrielle stuck out her tongue.

**“You sound like Mother,”** Gabrielle groaned.

Fleur moved the conversation to lighter topics as she finished Gabrielle’s hair, then fixed the appallingly messy bow she had done for her uniform. By the time they exited Fleur’s room, much of the Carriage were already leaving their rooms to head to the castle for breakfast.

**“Fleur!”**

Fleur smiled warmly as Julie fell into step beside her and Gabrielle. Now Julie was a human that Fleur could trust. They’d been friends for a couple of years now, after Julie had stood up for Fleur when some boys at their school were being incredibly inappropriate while following her around.

Julie was the kind of girl you could connect with easily and deeply. She had an open smile and emotive eyes. What you saw was what you got with Julie— no hidden agendas. Fleur always felt so at ease and safe with the girl.

Perhaps that was why it had been so easy for the lines to blur in their friendship? Kissing, cuddling, making love with Julie had been an almost natural progression. It felt safe and comforting. Nothing like previous physical encounters Fleur had experienced where partners would be too aggressive or distant.

Fleur had assumed Julie had felt the same safe comfort and nothing more. That these were things that felt good that they did together. She still felt like an idiot that she hadn’t recognised Julie’s feelings growing. It had been fun, but it had never elicited the kind of wild passion that Fleur yearned for in a partner. No— things were never destined to go further than a platonic relationship with her and Julie.

She noticed Julie move to take her hand before faltering.

Fleur had been keeping a bit more physical distance between them while Julie got over her feelings. She didn’t want to lead Julie on or confuse her.

Fleur smiled warmly at her friend, smoothing over the slight awkwardness between them.

**“How did you sleep?”** Fleur asked.

Julie shrugged,

**“Okay, I guess… How are you feeling this morning? You looked pretty dreadful last night!”** Julie commented.

Fleur laughed and pulled a face.

**“Wow, thanks for the compliment!”** Fleur retorted.

**“I didn’t mean — You were so cold and shivery! I was worried… You know I think you’re gorgeous,”** Julie hastily backtracked, before realising what she had said and blushing.

**“Hermione came and looked after her,”** Gabrielle interrupted, playing with the bow on her small uniform.

Fleur inwardly cursed her baby sister’s bluntness as slight hurt crossed Julie’s face. Her friend had offered to cuddle her when she had returned to the carriage freezing. Fleur had declined, despite knowing the close proximity could help. She hadn’t wanted to lead on Julie or confuse things between them any further. Julie was a lovely girl, unlikely to harbour any ill-will, but it still stung Fleur to hurt her feelings.

**“Coming to tell you to change English tutors again?”** Julie joked weakly, recovering.

**“She really didn’t like that Pansy Parkinson tutoring me,”** Fleur mused aloud, a small smile on her lips. Jealousy perhaps?

**“Is that the Slytherin girl with red lipstick?”** Gabrielle asked, tugging at her backpack straps restlessly.

Fleur placed a hand on Gabrielle’s shoulder’s to still her restlessness.

**“Yes, now, stop eavesdropping,”** Fleur said gently.

Gabrielle pouted then, a pout that rivalled even Fleur’s.

**“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m walking with you!”** Gabrielle protested, **“I just wanted to know if it was the Slytherin girl that kissed Hermione in the library the other day!”**

Fleur stopped in her tracks then, her eyebrows raising and eyes widening slightly. Julie shot her a sympathetic look, before taking her by the arm and tugging her back into step.

**“Hermione was kissing Pansy Parkinson?”** Fleur asked hollowly, feeling oddly like a heavy weight had been dropped in the pit of her stomach.

**“Well, the girl kissed her, but yeah,”** Gabrielle shrugged obliviously, still bouncing along happily beside her sister.

Fleur affixed a neutral expression once more. She hated people knowing what she thought.

**“I thought you didn’t care,”** Julie said with a sad and knowing smile, squeezing her arm.

**“I don’t,”** Fleur affirmed, shaking her head and raising her chin defiantly, **“There is nothing going on between Hermione and I. She’s free to kiss whoever she wants.”**

Fleur gritted her teeth, telling herself it was because of the bitter Scottish cold, and not because of the curious ache within her at Gabrielle’s revelation.

The trio made their way lightly up the steps to Hogwarts, stepping gracefully inside the Entrance Hall.

As if on some horrible cue, Hermione Granger herself was making her way through the Entrance Hall to the Great Hall, flanked by Harry Potter and the redhead that hung around them.

Bright intelligent eyes of the warmest brown met Fleur’s gaze.

Fleur gave the very slightest of smiles, maintaining an otherwise aloof exterior.

This cool greeting furrowed the brow of the brunette. Fleur could practically hear her brain whirring across the hall. But Fleur didn’t care. Hermione could be as perplexed as she liked.

“Flurr?”

A deep baritone voice, heavily accented, called out to her. Fleur turned to see Viktor Krum, normally very reserved and extremely quiet, staring at her with his intense and steely gaze. He had recently shaved his hair again, which he kept closely cropped to his head. He was burly for a seeker, with heavily muscled shoulders and a thick neck. Though it was morning, he already had a five o’clock shadow about his face.

“Oui?” Fleur replied curiously. She could feel eyes upon her. She always did, the hungry gaze of the thrall-addled boys— but this time she could practically feel a set of intelligent and curious eyes upon her.

“Could I haff a word?” Viktor asked politely, “Privately?”

Viktor had a similar demeanour to Fleur in public. He had clearly also been raised with a stern hand, raised not to show much emotion in public.

Fleur turned to Julie, not needing to speak aloud, as her friend simply nodded and took Gabrielle by the shoulder to carry on into the Great Hall.

Fleur turned back to Viktor, who gestured politely in the direction of outdoors, much to Fleur’s distaste.

Fleur walked ahead of Viktor, stepping carefully back outside and to the side of the Hogwarts steps. She shivered in the cold, inwardly thinking that this had better be good to keep her in the cold like this.

Viktor glanced around them carefully, ensuring they could not be overheard. He then smiled apologetically, slipping off his heavy bearskin cloak, before offering it to Fleur.

“Sorry, I know you do not like the cold,” Viktor said politely. Fleur merely nodded, allowing Viktor to place thefluffy black cloak around her shoulders. It did help immensely, and Fleur wondered if the cloak was enchanted to keep the bitterness of the cold out. She would have to ask Viktor.

“Merci,” Fleur thanked Viktor, before getting straight to the point, “Now what did you want to discuss?”

Viktor glanced around yet again, before leaning in close to Fleur. Fleur could smell the scent of oaky wood and charcoal about him. He was so close that Fleur could see the stubble on his chiselled features and the startling grey of his eyes. Usually when a boy would do this, Fleur would instinctively dodge, certain of an attempted kiss. But something about Viktor was earnest and trustworthy.

“Moody,” Viktor said quietly. He spoke barely above a murmur, despite having checked multiple times that they were alone and the wind whipping around them.

Fleur frowned.

“What about him?” Fleur asked, cocking her head to one side.

“Do you not think there is something… off?” Viktor asked, his eyes narrowing, “He seems to be… Acting strangely. Following around Champions. I’ve caught him several times talking to Karkaroff in heated tones.”

“What about?” Fleur asked, curious. Viktor shrugged.

“I’ve never been close enough to hear,” Viktor admitted.

Fleur bit her lip, weighing up Viktor’s words. He seemed to be agitated by the eccentric professor, but Fleur could not entirely understand why.

“You are talking an awful lot _around_ your point,” Fleur said finally, “What exactly is bothering you about him?”

Viktor sighed, his broad shoulders slacking a little.

“There is something not quite right,” Viktor informed Fleur quietly, “I worry he is rigging the competition somehow.”

“For what purpose?” Fleur asked, raising her eyebrows, “Do you have any proof?”

Viktor, defeated looking, shook his head.

“No,” Viktor replied, “And as for the purpose? I have no idea. I just wanted to warn you, whatever his motives. I haff caught him following me back to the Durmstrang ship a few times now, and watching me about the grounds. I haff seen him do the same to Cedric, and also spotted him about the Beauxbatons carriage. I want to win this competition, and I know you do too. I would rather we all compete upon equal footing.”

“Me too,” Fleur agreed, “Do you think you could talk to Ludo Bagman about your concerns?”

Viktor shook his head.

“You know how Hogwarts obsessed they are here— They would think I was imagining it, or trying to disparage our host school,” Viktor replied, “No… I must simply be cautious unless I chance upon any definite evidence of my suspicions.”

Fleur nodded, digesting this information.

“You will be careful?” Viktor asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

“I will,” Fleur replied.

Viktor nodded, gesturing for them to return to the castle. Fleur walked in silence with the athlete. For Viktor to reach out to her and share his suspicions, he must have a very strong suspicion that Moody was up to no good. Viktor hardly struck Fleur as the type to gossip about half-baked theories.

As they stepped inside the Great Hall, Viktor took his cloak back from Fleur’s shoulders. He leaned in close to her ear as he did so.

“I understand what we discussed may sound crazy,” Viktor murmured, “But please do heed my words.”

He withdrew again, sweeping his cloak around his own broad shoulders. Fleur smiled and nodded.

With that, Viktor smiled politely before turning on his heel and marching towards the other Durmstrang students at the Slytherin table. Watching him go, Fleur’s eyes fell on Pansy Parkinson.

The tanned, raven haired beauty was watching her curiously. At being caught, her blood red lips turned into a smug grin, her button nose scrunching as she grinned.

Fleur frowned, turning away and heading for the Ravenclaw table.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout-out to Perpetual Nonsense for taking the time to sense check me on this one. 
> 
> Thank you to all those who have reviewed or sent me PMs on here or on Fanfiction net, it's very lovely of you. It puts a smile on my face, even if I am appalling at replying :/ 
> 
> If you are 18+ and like Harry Potter F/F pairings, feel free to join a discord group of like minded souls: discord. gg / d4wgtA5jrA (delete the gaps, I had to chuck them in so AO3 wouldn't auto yeet that link)
> 
> Z x

The winds picked up and leaves threw themselves from the trees as the weeks passed. Temperatures plummeted further and rain perpetually beat against the worn stone blocks of the Hogwarts castle.

Hermione frowned at her own reflection in a window. It was barely evening and it was already so dark outside the windows reflected her own face back at her. Her expression looked so serious, framed by her wild and unruly curls. She was more pale and her hair was missing some of the lighter highlights it usually had, a result of the lack of sun. But it had the effect of giving her a solemness that echoed how she felt inside.

It had been a couple of weeks since the evening she fell asleep cuddling with Fleur and she wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing. It seemed a trivial thing, really, worrying about a pretty girl’s feelings towards her— particularly when Harry was facing potential harm with the Tournament.

That evening it had seemed like Fleur was finally beginning to bring her icy walls down… Hermione had felt the closest to her since the revelation of her terrible research project. If Hermione shut her eyes, she could still feel the warmth of creamy pale skin against her, the light floral scent emanating from platinum blonde hair.

Hermione shook her head, turning away from the window in the Gryffindor Common Room.

“Hermione?” Harry called out. He was nearby, on an overstuffed couch, but his voice seemed to come from a mile away.

“Leave her be, mate,” Ron replied to Harry, “You know she’s been nothing but broody and melodramatic the past few weeks.”

Hermione’s eyebrow twitched at that, still easily irritated, even though her mind was elsewhere.

She wasn’t sure why, but Fleur had put a distance back between them since the night they had cuddled together in bed. It was different to the angry distance of before. Fleur was still perfectly cordial, offering a polite greeting or a slight smile when she saw her in the halls. But she hadn’t sought her out, hadn’t asked for another English lesson, hadn’t lingered for more than a ‘hello’ with Hermione.

The brunette had of course, discreetly tried to glean information from Gabrielle, the mini-Fleur still appearing frequently in the library and around the castle to spend time with her. Unfortunately, whatever had changed Fleur was also a mystery to the small girl, who offered no insight at all into Fleur’s distance towards Hermione.

Hermione was trying not to let it get to her. After all, all she had wanted was for Fleur not to be angry with her… Right?

Still, it stung. That, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel a hot prickling at the back of her neck every time she saw Viktor lean close to the blonde, constantly whispering quiet words into her ear.

Rita Skeeter had even picked up on the two champions’ new closeness, posting a photograph of the two outside the castle, Viktor bundling Fleur up in his own bearskin cloak to protect her from the cold. Hermione knew Rita wrote nothing but rubbish, but the photograph had still made her jaw tense and her teeth grind.

Ron, in his own clumsy way, had tried to cheer her up about the entire situation. He reasoned that if Hermione were to lose out on a girl she liked, surely it may as well be to a handsome, famous athlete? Shockingly, this did little to balm the burn Hermione felt inside.

“What if the Second Task is during winter?” Harry queried, looking past Hermione at the black windows, “How am I supposed to stand swimming in the cold?”

Hermione’s chest clenched at the memory of Fleur’s sensitivity to cold and to bodies of water. She frowned, turning back to look at the boys.

“Warming charm, mate,” Ron said, folding his arms behind his head as if it were as simple as that, “Sorted.”

“Warming charms wear off, Ronald,” Hermione said tersely, “You’ll need to practise casting spells underwater so you can be sure you can continue to cast warming charms while you’re down there.”

Ron cast a sly look at Harry, as if his foolish answer had been a ruse to get Hermione to snap out of her funk all along. Harry ignored him, his pale features contorting into concern.

“I dunno how I’m even going to stay underwater that long without breathing,” Harry said, running a hand through his hair.

Harry was running his thin hands through his hair often these days. It was a nervous habit of his, one that made his already messy black hair even messier. It was standing up on odd angles at that moment, making it look like he had just risen after a night of tossing and turning.

Harry, still not eating or sleeping well, seemed even more wiry and thin than he usually did. His cheekbones were more pronounced and he had a darkness smudged around his eyes from lack of sleep.

Hermione was tired of picking up after Harry, of constantly being the one to put in hard work to solve _his_ problems. But she supposed she was just grumpy over the Fleur situation. Harry was— yet again— in danger, and not because of his own doing. The poor boy looked like a wreck and Hermione knew she was the only one out of the trio likely to be able to find the tools he needed.

She sighed heavily.

“How about you and Ron run strategies for how you might approach different challenges or creatures in the lake?” Hermione suggested tiredly, “I’ll go back to the library and search some more for a way to breathe underwater.”

Hermione was growing sick of Harry’s anxious interjections interrupting her reading when they searched in the library together. He never read that much himself, spending the time running his hands through his hair and posing nervous questions to Hermione instead. It would do him well to do some planning with Ron. Ron, for all his clumsy faults, was a strong strategist, and could at least minimise some of Harry’s tendency to ‘wing it’ in dangerous situations. She shot the redhead a meaningful look and he met her gaze, smiling grimly and nodding.

Ron, with his unruly red hair, usually looked boyish and hastily pulled together. Especially now his red curls (far tamer than Hermione’s) were just about past the lobe of his ears and his face was bristled with ginger attempts at facial hair. However, now, Ron’s jaw was set and his eyes were serious. In this rare moment, Ron looked more grown up than he was.

Sometimes it felt like Hermione and Ron were co-parenting Harry.

It wasn’t Harry’s fault, really. He just happened to be the most unlucky boy in the Wizarding World.

Still, Hermione had to get to the library before her already short temper boiled over with Harry. She slung her book bag on her shoulder and turned towards the portrait hole.

“‘Mione,” Harry called out suddenly.

Hermione turned back, wondering if Harry was about to thank her for her tireless efforts. It felt like she spent all her time outside of classes poring over books to help him.

“Take this,” Harry said, tossing a folded parchment and a bundle of silky cloth at her, “You’ll probably be out past curfew again.”

Hermione caught the items, the Marauder’s Map and the Invisibility Cloak.

“Thanks,” Hermione said flatly, restraining herself from rolling her eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Harry said simply, turning to face Ron.

Hermione frowned sourly, stuffing the items in her bag before heading out of the Gryffindor Common Room.

_It’s not his fault,_ Hermione reminded herself, _He doesn’t mean it. He’s just stressed and terrified for his life._

* * *

Fleur pulled the scarlet and gold scarf tighter around her neck. It was icy cold in the Hogwarts library, putting her in a thoroughly bad mood. Julie had already left hours ago, taking Gabrielle back to the carriage.

Fleur was staying late yet again to work with Viktor.

They were preparing for the Second Task together, as well as working on their side-project of figuring out what the heck the eccentric Hogwarts Professor Moody was up to.

Fleur lifted a hand to tuck a strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear, frowning as she noticed one of her pastel pink nails was chipped. She would have to fix it later.

Really, Viktor and Fleur could have been doing all this in the warmth and comfort of Fleur’s room— or the vastness and privacy of Viktor’s quarters. But with the damned Rita Skeeter already starting rumours that Fleur and Viktor were sleeping together, neither of them wanted to fan the flames of gossip. Viktor had a partner back home in Bulgaria that he very much did _not_ want to upset.

Viktor looked up, catching Fleur’s gaze. He scratched at the bristles on his chin, frustrated. He’d shaved his hair down to a close crop again. He was a particularly hairy man, hair growing incredibly fast. It had the effect of making him appear older and more mature than his peers. That and his calm grey eyes.

“You okay?” Viktor asked.

Fleur nodded.

“I just don’t know how much we can prepare for past the water,” Fleur sighed, crossing her arms.

She’d found a stronger, longer lasting warming charm which made it slightly more bearable to be in the water. Or at least allow her to be in the cold of the water without passing out. They’d managed to teach Viktor enough about swimming that he wouldn’t drown.

They were continuing to work on those main obstacles during the day, while studying the other elements in the evening. How to breathe underwater, protective and offensive spells they might need…

“Moody took me aside after Potions today,” Viktor informed Fleur, “He spoke of sharks and transfiguration.”

“That’s an incredibly difficult type of transfiguration he’s hinting at,” Fleur frowned. Her mother was very gifted at Transfiguration and Fleur loved the subject. It seemed an awfully dangerous suggestion for someone to put to a student. Most adults wouldn’t be able to transfigure themselves into sharks without something going horribly wrong.

“Further sabotage?” Viktor suggested, frowning.

“Absolutely,” Fleur concurred, “Why would you try such a risky spell on yourself and risk serious harm when you could try something like the Bubblehead Charm?”

The Bubblehead Charm was one of the front runners in their planning for the task. It seemed complex, but not too difficult to learn. It was fragile, but the easiest and most convenient method of breathing underwater for a prolonged period of time.

“We need some hard evidence of his attempts to place us in harm,” Viktor frowned, “The problem is he only approaches me when I’m on my own and nobody else is around.”

“And a motive,” Fleur agreed, “Why rig the competition at all? Just for Hogwarts to win? He’s only started teaching here this year.”

“Maybe he placed a large sum of money on the results,” Viktor suggested.

“Do you think he is attempting to sabotage Cedric too?” Fleur wondered out loud, “Or he only cares about Hogwarts winning?”

“Maybe he is the reason they have two Champions,” Viktor mused, twiddling his quill in his large hands.

Fleur sighed heavily, flipping her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder.

“Maybe we should just tell our Headmasters?” Fleur said, closing the book in front of her.

She was tired. Merlin, she was tired.

It felt like they had put in so much work but only got marginally closer to surviving the Second Task and _nowhere_ in finding out what the heck Moody’s endgame was. Her nails were chipped and she wanted to check in to see Gabrielle before the small girl would be asleep for the night.

“I don’t know,” Viktor rumbled in his bassy voice, shutting his own book, “I’m not sure about Maxime, but Karkaroff is not someone I would necessarily trust confiding in.”

Fleur rolled Viktor’s words around in her exhausted mind as they packed up their belongings, an unspoken agreement that they had given up for the day.

Madame Maxime only really cared about two things: the reputation of Beauxbatons; and the way that reputation reflected back on herself. It was possible that an attempted sabotage of the Beauxbatons Champion would spur her into a wild frenzy of action. But… It was also possible that Maxime would try to cover the whole thing up. She hated Beauxbatons being wrapped up in scene above anything else. She called it “unbecoming.”

Fleur and Viktor shouldered their bags, rubbing at tired eyes as they headed towards the exit of the library.

There were still a few studiers left in the library. Various hungry eyes roaming over Fleur and Viktor, depending on their preference. She could also hear the murmuring undertone of gossip.

Fleur rolled her eyes.

“Flurr,” Viktor rumbled.

Fleur flicked her cornflower blue eyes back to the Bulgarian beside her.

Viktor nodded at the shadowy corridors just outside the library. A loud thunking rung out as a hunched figure lumbered into the shadows, a large and suspicious backpack slung over one shoulder.

“Moody?”

“Let’s follow him,” Viktor said, his grey eyes glinting a little with his reckless words.

“Are you sure?” Fleur faltered. She wanted to figure out what Moody was up to as much as Viktor, but stalking a professor through the shadowy and ever-changing hallways of Hogwarts was due to lead to trouble. Fleur had enough trouble finding her way to class with the trick stairs and moving staircases, let alone tailing someone potentially dangerous.

“Call it a gut instinct. When else will we have the chance to find out more?” Viktor shrugged, “I am sick of not knowing what he is up to. It looks like he is up to something, and maybe we can finally catch him in the act.”

“Oui, or catch a detention,” Fleur responded tersely. She was tired and at this rate wouldn’t be back to the carriage before Gabrielle was asleep. But still, she found herself following the heavily muscled Bulgarian as he quietly followed in the direction that Moody was headed in.

* * *

Hermione was on her way down to the library, Invisibility Cloak under one arm and Marauder’s Map under the other, her satchel strapped across her chest.

She was about to catch one of the moving staircases as a shortcut when she caught sight of two Champions across the shifting staircases. Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum were leaning into each other, discussing something intently.

Hermione knew better than to believe Skeeter’s rumours, but the sight of it still sparked a flame of jealousy in her stomach.

Hermione paused, a foot hovering above the first staircase step. She only had a few moments before this staircase moved away.

She really needed to get to the library and research the Second Task for Harry. The image of his thin and anxious frame was stuck in her mind. She couldn’t let him down.

Viktor and Fleur nodded at each other before taking a staircase to an the abandoned Third floor.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed.

Really… If Harry was that anxious, surely he should be studying some more himself… Right? Besides, Ron was helping him strategise right now.

Hermione whipped the Invisibility Cloak around herself, rashly changing her plans. She moved away from the staircase and caught another one, then a second one, heading off after Viktor and Fleur.

Hogwarts was a gloomy castle. A gothic design, it was all cold stone and dimly lit hallways at the best of time. However, the Third floor, which had been abandoned as long as Hermione had been at Hogwarts, was even darker and spookier.

It seems even Harry, Hermione and Ron almost dying on this floor in search of the Philosopher’s Stone in their First Year hadn’t even prompted Dumbledore to send in any cleaners.

The hallways were extremely dim and thickly coated in cobwebs. Only a very few candles were scattered down the walls, flickering weakly against the draft.

Hermione had taken too long to get to the floor and had lost sight of Viktor and Fleur already. Squinting against the dim lighting, Hermione pulled out the Marauder’s Map and tapped it with her wand, muttering the necessary words.

As the blueprint of the castle scratched its way onto the battered map, Hermione quickly located her own dot amongst the scurrying of the castle. Sure enough, only down the hall and around the corner were two dots labelled _Fleur Delacour_ and _Viktor Krum_ heading rapidly down the hallway.

Where were they going?

Hermione’s eyes only managed to flick to the dot slightly ahead of them before she hurriedly stuffed the map back in her robes.

_Bartemius Crouch._

_Why_ on Earth were Fleur and Viktor chasing the Ministry Official on the judging panel of the Triwizard Tournament to an abandoned floor? Nothing good could come of this.

Hermione pulled out her wand and set off in the direction of the Champions as quickly as she could.

Why follow Crouch?

Why were they all on the Third Floor?

Hermione’s mind was in overdrive trying to make sense of the bizarre situation. She hurried her pace, a part of her wondering why she was wandering an abandoned floor so close to curfew _just_ because a couple of Champions were doing it. Something about Fleur had her breaking rules even faster than Harry and Ron.

Hermione was getting close enough she could hear footsteps. She shoved the Marauder’s Map in the pocket of her cloak and neared another corner, following the direction of the commotion.

“Fuck!” a bassy Bulgarian voice rang out.

Adrenaline pumping, Hermione raced around the corner, whipping the Invisibility Cloak down and brandishing her wand.

To her dismay, Hermione found the Champions on their own at the end of the hallway.No Barty Crouch in sight. Viktor was perplexed, scratching his chin. Fleur was tapping her plump lips with her fingers, though she stopped and turned to look at Hermione. A brief flash of surprise— and something Hermione couldn’t quite recognise— crossed Fleur’s face before being quickly hidden. She narrowed her long-lashed eyes suspiciously.

“What are you doing here?” Fleur asked. Viktor turned to fix Hermione with a steely gaze, looking a little startled.

“I… What are you doing here?” Hermione deflected, “This floor is abandoned; students aren’t supposed to come here.”

“We—“

“—We were just leaving,” Viktor interrupted Fleur. Hermione felt her heart sink a bit, even though she knew that they clearly weren’t sneaking there to snog.

“Fleur,” Hermione tried to reason. Mercifully, Fleur’s eyes seemed to thaw a little and she gave Viktor a small push forward.

“Viktor, wait for me around the corner?” Fleur asked.

Viktor didn’t look convinced, but nodded all the same, lumbering back down the hallway to wait.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, voice barely above a whisper, “Look… I don’t know what I did… But, I want you to listen to me when I say it’s dangerous to go to abandoned or restricted places at this school.”

Fleur smiled and Hermione wondered if she imagined the sadness on her lips.

“Like I listened when you warned me about Pansy?” Fleur asked, cocking her head to one side.

It had been a while since Hermione had been in such close proximity with Fleur, and Hermione tried to ignore the pleasant shiver running through her body. There were more important matters at hand.

“Yes— I mean, what do you mean?” Hermione asked, confused.

Fleur took a deep breath. She seemed to be internally conflicted about something, shutting her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, Hermione could see her walls were back up again.

“We were trying to follow Moody,” Fleur said in a low voice, “We think he is trying to sabotage the Tournament.”

Hermione wanted to scoff. She wanted to point out that they hadn’t even been following the right person through the halls. But she digested Fleur’s words. She herself didn’t trust Moody. She also got the impression Moody was up to something. But she hadn’t had anything concrete other than his vague attempts to help Harry.

“Do you have proof?” Hermione asked, releasing her breath in a _whoosh._ She hadn’t even realised she’d been holding it.

“Non,” Fleur said, her brows furrowing.

“How sure are you that he is sabotaging the tournament?” Hermione asked.

“He suggested a very dangerous tactic to Viktor,” Fleur replied tensely, “I… I have a very bad feeling about him, Hermione. But there is nothing solid to point to. I worry that Viktor and I are marching to our certain deaths in this Second Task.”

Hermione knew Fleur wouldn’t say those words lightly. She reached out, worried, taking one of Fleur’s forearms in her hands. Goosebumps erupted over the skin Hermione could see.

“Fleur…” Hermione said softly. Her warm brown eyes locked with sky blue. She could feel a kind of electricity beginning to thrum under her fingers, just at the skin to skin contact with the other teen.

For a moment Hermione felt like she finally had a clear and open connection with Fleur. She could see the blonde was scared, genuinely so. Hermione remembered rescuing her from the lake, holding her tight as she trembled from the after-affects of the cold in her bed.

But then the moment was gone, Fleur’s eyes hardened as she raised those walls again.

“I should go,” Fleur said quickly, pulling her arm out of Hermione’s grasp and flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“Why don’t you tell someone your concerns?” Hermione asked, not wanting Fleur to disappear just yet.

“With no evidence?” Fleur scoffed, “And tell them what? That Viktor can barely swim and I _don’t like_ the cold? Karkaroff and Maxime would laugh in our faces and tell us to toughen up!”

“Fleur,” Hermione said sympathetically, reaching out for the blonde instinctively.

Fleur flitted out of reach, her full lips straightening into a firm line. She looked annoyed and Hermione didn’t understand why.

“It doesn’t matter, the magic binds us to compete. We must do it.” Fleur said dismissively. She turned around and began to walk away, her heels clicking on the stone.

“Fleur—“ Hermione called out. She didn’t want Fleur to walk away just yet. She didn’t want to leave things like this.

Fleur looked over her shoulder, her beautiful face a mix of annoyance, fear, and something Hermione couldn’t read.

“Why don’t you just talk to Pansy about it?” Fleur said suddenly, “Gabrielle told me all about your rendezvous in the library.”

Hermione felt like she’d just taken a punch to the gut, caught entirely off-guard. By the time she recovered and was ready to reply, Fleur was already gone.

Hermione exhaled heavily, letting the invisibility cloak fall to the stone floor.

So _that_ was why Fleur was acting distant with her. She must have thought that was the entire reason Hermione had warned her to stay away from Pansy. Hermione swore softly under her breath.

Hermione hadn’t been standing in the abandoned hallway for long when a tapestry twitched.Hermione quickly grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and donned it again.

A thin and gangly Durmstrang boy emerged, looking each way before scurrying quickly away. Hermione recognised him vaguely as one of the many hangers-on that followed Viktor around. One of the many fans desperately trying to cross the line to become the famous Seeker’s friend.

What the heck was _he_ doing here?

The tapestry twitched again and, of all people, Pansy Parkinson emerged in her Slytherin uniform. She smoothed down her skirt daintily, before her blood-red lipstick split into a smile and she began to walk away.

Maybe it was the sting of Fleur distancing herself because of Pansy. Maybe it was the bizarreness of the entire night. But Hermione found herself once again shedding the Invisibility Cloak.

“What are you doing here, Parkinson?”

Pansy jumped, whirling around.

“Shut up, Granger,” Pansy replied, without missing a beat. She grabbed Hermione’s arm and pulled, dragging her down the hallway, around a corner, and into an abandoned classroom.

“What on Earth is going on?” Hermione asked, crossing her arms, “Why are you here? Why is that Durmstrang boy here? Why is Barty Crouch around here?”

“Why do you ask so many goddamn questions all the time?” Pansy groaned, “Just… Just wait here for five minutes and then we can go without you being seen.”

“Why can’t I be seen?” Hermione frowned, “What’s going on?”

“Jesus Christ, Granger,” Pansy rolled her eyes, “Do you ever shut up? I feel like I’m in an interrogation. This is the last time I do you a favour.”

“Favour? How is yanking me into an abandoned classroom and refusing to answer any questions a favour?” Hermione growled.

Pansy narrowed her dark eyes at Hermione.

“One more question and I’m hexing you,” Pansy threatened.

Hermione scoffed.

“I’m sick of this, I have to go to the library before curfew,” Hermione said curtly, going to leave. Pansy grabbed her arm again.

“Don’t, Hermione,” Pansy said firmly.

“ _Hermione_ now? Not ‘Granger?’” Hermione asked, quirking an eyebrow. She noticed Pansy’s eyes darken a little and her eyes flick down to look at Hermione’s lips.

“Nuh-uh-uh!” Hermione yelped, pressing a finger against Pansy’s blood-red lips, “I didn’t come up here to—I don’t — This _isn’t why I’m here, Pansy!”_

Pansy looked very much guilty, stepping away, but making sure to stand between Hermione and the door.

“I’m not going to kiss you again, Granger,” Pansy sighed. For a moment Hermione even wondered if Pansy looked a little sad. “But you shouldn’t be following people around the castle. It isn’t safe.”

Hermione scoffed louder.

“Isn’t safe?” Hermione shook her head, “Since when have you cared about my safety?”

Pansy narrowed her eyes, but not before Hermione noticed the Slytherin’s eyes roam up and down her body.

“You’re an insufferable, bossy know-it-all—“

“Gee, thanks, Parkinson!”

“— But that doesn’t mean I want you to get caught up in something that could get you killed,” Pansy said, avoiding looking at the brunette momentarily.

“Killed,” Hermione deadpanned.

That could mean _anything_ in Hogwarts. From basilisks to werewolves to Voldemort himself, Hermione had already come across plenty that could get her killed around the school.

_Unless…_

“Is this to do with the tournament?” Hermione asked in a low voice. Pansy’s eyes widened slightly before she tried to pass off her reaction with a flimsy smile.

“What do you know?” Hermione asked, stepping closer to Pansy. The reaction Pansy was having to her was giving her an unexpected upper hand.

Hermione had never, ever been one of those girls that could use something like her _sexuality_ to her advantage. The very idea of it almost made Hermione laugh. She wasn’t a Lavender or a Parvati. Yet, she could tell, from Pansy’s darting eyes and the slight blush on her cheeks, that she _did_ in fact have an advantage over the Slytherin.

“There are people gathering information on the competitors,” Pansy said vaguely, her eyes not quite meeting Hermione’s, “Interested parties.”

“So the competition _is_ rigged,” Hermione surmised.

Pansy bit her lip.

“I don’t know about the whole competition,” Pansy muttered, “But at least the next task.”

“By who? Crouch? Moody?” Hermione demanded.

Pansy, becoming agitated, waved a hand for Hermione to stop speaking.

“Look, I’ve said too much,” Pansy said nervously, “I’m only roped into all of this because of my stupid parents. Forget I said anything and stop snooping around.”

“Pansy…”

“I think it should be fine to go now,” Pansy said dismissively.

Almost as abruptly as Fleur, Pansy wrenched her eyes off Hermione and left the room.

Hermione furrowed her brow.

—————

Hermione hadn’t seen anyone else on the floor on her way out. She had even taken the time to properly scour the Marauder’s Map before she left. But whoever had been gathered there, were long gone. The only dot on the floor was a Hermione Granger.

But Hermione hadn’t forgotten about it by the time she finally got to the library, or even when she headed back to Gryffindor tower late, circles under her eyes.

She sank into an over-stuffed couch in front of the dwindling fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. Everyone else had long since gone to bed.

Confirmation that the tournament was being rigged.

But no way of proving it.

Perhaps Hermione could go straight to Dumbledore, insist he drag Pansy in and get her to corroborate Viktor and Fleur’s fears?

Would he listen?

Had the professors listened in previous years? Ever stopped the dangers? With the basilisk that Petrified her? With Quirrell literally hiding Voldemort inside the castle all year?

Even when Dumbledore had effectively given the ‘okay’ to use the time turner to save Sirius, it had been Hermione and the boys that had put a stop to everything.

Hermione rubbed her temples. It went against her grain not to talk to the teachers first. As much as she had let the odd rule slide here and there with experimenting on Fleur and sneaking around to study… This was a hard line for her. She would talk to McGonagall in the morning.

“Cup of tea?”

Hermione pulled her gaze away from the flames dancing in the fireplace.

Ron was standing beside the couch, a cup of tea in each hand. He was wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee, hair ruffled like he had been in bed.

“Yeah, thanks,” Hermione mumbled.

“Much luck at the library?” Ron asked, heaving himself onto the couch beside her. He took a greedy gulp of his tea, massing the other mug to Hermione. Hermione simply nursed her tea, enjoying the warmth of the mug against her hands.

“Not really,” Hermione replied tiredly, “Much luck here?”

“Not really,” Ron replied, “Harry’s a wreck. But at least he’s sleeping at the moment.”

“How is it that Harry seems to wind up in the centre of something life-threatening every year?” Hermione sighed.

Ron shook his head, looking into the fireplace.

“Beats me,” Ron grunted, “Getting a bit over the constant danger, to be honest. Wonder how he must feel.”

“I know he has nobody else, except Sirius,” Hermione said softly, “But sometimes it feels like he leans _so heavily_ on us. Sometimes I feel like I have no room to breathe.”

Ron nodded absently and grunted, continuing to sip at his tea.

Hermione told Ron about all she had discovered that night, carefully leaving out the strange sexual tension between her and Pansy. Ron seemed more awake then, a heavy concern setting across his features.

“So… Just another bloody potentially life-threatening situation on top of an already life-threatening tournament,” Ron groaned.

“I’m going to talk to McGonagall tomorrow,” Hermione told Ron, “Tell her everything I know. I don’t care if Pansy ends up being pulled in and dosed with veritaserum. This needs to come out.”

“What about Harry?” Ron asked, running a large hand through his hair, “Do we tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied honestly, “He’s lost so much weight, he’s barely eating… Can he take that pressure on top of everything else?”

“I dunno,” Ron replied.


End file.
